


Where The Wild Things Are

by Hokum



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Eventual Romance, F/M, Sex Talk, Slow Burn, Tormunds Daughters, mini!Giantsbanes, wildling culture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2018-12-18 08:31:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 85,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11870535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hokum/pseuds/Hokum
Summary: Whilst helping the Wildlings move their camp Brienne learns a thing or two about Free Folk culture and meets two, small flamed haired little girls when she is left with no other option other than to sleep in Tormunds tent for the night.





	1. The King Crow's Spear-Wife

The stables of Winterfell were shrouded in darkness save for the one lantern that Brienne had been able to bring with her; the wind was picking up and all the torches had blown out on her way down from her chambers. She didn't think she'd ever been awake this early in her life and, frustratingly, it took her more than three attempts to saddle her horse which was something she could normally do with her eyes shut. With the impending battle for the Iron Throne and the more pressing threat from the White Walkers it had been agreed that the Wildlings camp should be moved closer to Winterfell; should the Lannister army brave the journey north to do battle with Jon Snow or the Night King finally make it beyond the Wall. Following Lady Sansa's instructions, Brienne and Pod were to be supervising the endeavor, which was why she was awake at this ungodly hour, but she wasn't all that pleased about it. Brienne really hadn't wanted to go; she would have much preferred to have stayed behind at Winterfell to keep an eye on Lady Sansa and Lady Arya and prevent any more sisterly squabbles, especially with Little Finger lurking about like an overgrown bat at every turn. Lady Sansa had _insisted_ though and Brienne had begrudgingly had to admit defeat whilst she tried not to go red when Lady Sansa suggested that Tormund would be more than happy to assist her. That was another reason why she didn't want to go because in Winterfell she could sneak away whenever she saw that flash of red hair but that would prove difficult if she was stuck in Tormund's own camp with him. It wasn't that he was horrible to her, quite the opposite, but that was half the problem; Brienne knew how to deal with nasty little shits. Whatever it was that Tormund was doing she really had no comprehension of and it was just easier all round if she just stayed out of the way until he left. In fact, Brienne was so busy pretending that she _wasn't_ feeling anxious and nervous about spending a whole two days with Tormund that she completely missed the sound of footfalls sneaking up behind her.

  
"Lady Brienne," a voice said and Brienne almost jumped out of her skin she was so preoccupied trying not to think about Tormund and she turned around to find Petyr Baelish smirking at her from the top of the stairwell.

  
He only called her "Lady Brienne" to belittle her and due to the fact that he knew that it annoyed her because Brienne _wasn't_ a lady. The last thing Brienne had wanted to do with her life was sitting about in Tarth bored out of her mind with some insipid husband telling her what to do all day long. She wanted to be out in the world seeing things, helping people and trying to do whatever she could to assist Jon Snow in the war that was creeping ever closer to them. It must have shown on her face that the moniker irritated her because Little Finger's smirk grew even wider as he stood on the top step and looked down at her like he was Lord of bloody Winterfell.

  
"Lord Baelish," Brienne replied curtly before turning back to her horse and tightening the saddle straps; the last person she wanted to talk to this early in the morning was that conniving little man. Unfortunately, Little Finger seemed _insistent_ on ruining her day and he made his way down towards the stables before Brienne was finished and able to lead her horse away.

"So kind of you to offer assistance to our new primitive friends," he said as Brienne balked at his choice of words; the Wildlings were hardly running round in loincloths and beating each other over the head with clubs, "I'm sure they'll be of great assistance in the war to come."

Then he smirked again and Brienne scowled at him; the Wildlings had given their lives to defend Winterfell even when the Battle of the Bastards had nothing to do with them and where had Little Finger been? Probably sat in his grand tower with a whore or two waiting for the opportune moment to ride to the rescue and steal all the glory for himself. It was this kind of attitude that made Brienne loath men like him as he was quite happy to sit about and let others die just so he wouldn't have to get his pristine hands dirty. Little finger seemed to be implying that the Wildlings were expendable just because they preferred to live in tents rather than in stone walled castles and Brienne's frown deepened. The grand Lord Baelish probably wouldn't last five minutes out in the wilderness all by himself without his fancy clothes and various minions to do his bidding Brienne thought smugly whilst Baelish pretended to take a great interest in her horse.

"I do as Lady Sansa bids me," Brienne replied, hoping that he would just go away or that Pod would hurry up and get out of bed so that they could leave, "And the Wildlings make up most of Jon Snow's army in case you'd forgotten; it wouldn't do to leave them out in the path of the White Walkers now would it?"

Baelish smiled at her again, like he knew something she didn't, and it made Brienne even more uneasy about leaving Lady Sansa alone with him. It was the way he _looked_ at her; like when a fox found its way into an unguarded hen house. Why wouldn't he just go back to the Vale and take care of that _horrid_ Arryn boy she keeps hearing about? Without warning, Baelish quickly pulled the reins from her grip and Brienne has to force herself to remain calm as he holds them just out of her reach; taunting her ever so slightly. 

"I'd be careful _Lady Brienne_ if I were you; the Wildlings aren't like you and me," Baelish whispered as he moved in front of her and blocked her from leaving the stables, "They're savages who've been left alone in the wilderness for too long and they take _what_ they want _when_ they want."

If he was trying to scare her then he was doing a pretty poor job of it; the camp was mainly full of children and old people. The Wildlings knew she was coming to help them anyway and it wasn't as if they were going to drag her off her horse the moment she and Pod rode into their camp.

"I think I'm more than capable of looking after myself," Brienne said as she yanked the reins back from him but when she tried to lead her horse out Baelish still wouldn't move.

"What the Bolton soldiers _almost_ did to you was such a terrible thing," Little Finger said, grabbing her hand and patting it like he was trying to comfort her but his fingers dug deep into the back of her riding gloves, "I hear that the Wildling chief has taken a great liking to you, imagine that, but perhaps it would be best to be on your guard tonight. You won't have Ser Jamie to save you this time if anything should go… wrong."

Brienne pulled her hand free from his grip; her face burning red with embarrassment and anger. _How_ did Little Finger know about what had happened to her when she had been captured by the Boltons? She'd pushed those memories as far out of her mind as she could but now it was all bubbling to the surface and Brienne struggled to keep a lid on her emotions. The clawed scar on her shoulder had started to itch with phantom pain and her hands started to shake slightly as Little Finger smiled blandly at her. The reference to Tormund made her blush even further; did _everybody_ know about that? Great, now the whole of Winterfell was probably making fun of her behind her back and asking themselves how anyone, even a _Wildling_ , could be interested in "Brienne the Beauty".

"Thank you for your concern Lord Baelish," Brienne said through gritted teeth, "But as I said; I can take care of my self."

To prove her point she'd already moved her thumb and pushed the hilt of her sword up, watching in satisfaction as Little Fingers eyes widened slightly when the steel glinted in the moonlight. As much as she would like to stab him straight through the neck Brienne had more pressing matters to attend to, but it was nice to see him scuttle half a step away from her. Hopefully, he would keep on scuttling all the way back to the Vale but she really didn't hold out much hope for that. Baelish was glaring at her, that perfect fake mask of his slipping slightly, and looked like he was about to say something else when a noise sounded out behind him.

"Milady?" It was Pod; still looking half asleep but his eyes fell on Brienne's sword and Lord Baelish's look of annoyance, "Perhaps we should be on our way now?"

"Of course," Little finger replied silkily as he slid away from Brienne so she could _finally_ move her horse out not the yard, "Safe travels to you and your squire Lady Brienne, I look forward to when you're back amongst your own people."

He smiled that horrid smug smile of his and Brienne just about had the good grace not to roll her eyes at him as she swung herself up onto her horse and sped off out of the gate; Pod following close at her heels. It was still hours before dawn and they had a long ride ahead of them to the disused farmlands where the Wildlings had made their camp and the heavy snow fall wasn't helping. They'd barely gone a few miles and Brienne was already freezing even beneath her thick cloak and she could hear Pods teeth chattering beside her.

"Come on Pod," she called as she urged her horse through the snow, "It's not that cold."

  
It bloody well was cold but Brienne wasn't about to let Pod see that a little bit of snow had gotten underneath her skin and they pushed on in silence. Pod knew better than to ask her about what Little Finger was up to and Brienne relished the silence to try and sort her head out a little bit. Knowing that she was about to spend a full two days with Tormund was making her old insecurities rise to the surface and Brienne started to feel flustered once more the closer they got to the camp. Maybe she could just get Pod to do all the talking? No, that was a terrible idea; Brienne would just have to act professional and get on with it. Finally, after what felt like hours, they neared the edge of the field that the Wildlings had chosen as their makeshift dwelling but as they came around the corner Brienne spotted a lone figure clad in a thick fur coat waiting for them by the side of the trail. Unexpectedly, her stomach did a little flip of anticipation but as they rode closer Brienne found it was an elderly looking tribesman that was waiting for them; his graying ginger hair already flecked with snow and he barely batted an eyelid at the icy wind that was slicing into Brienne's skin. Slowing her horse to a stop Brienne climbed off her horse and landed in a puddle of slushy snow water and her feet almost turned into ice cubes. Behind her Pod had been even less lucky with his landing and promptly lost his footing and fallen over on a patch of ice.

  
"Hello, I am Brienne of Tarth," Brienne introduced herself as the Wildling waited for Pod to pick himself up from where he'd fallen, "And this is my squire Podrick."

"We know who you are Lady Crow," the man grumbled, "Names Dim Dalba and I'll be making sure none of my lot give you any trouble today."

  
Oddly Brienne found herself both relieved and disappointed that Tormund hadn't been the one that was meeting them considering he was their leader after all but maybe this was how it was done amongst the Wildlings? When she'd first seen that flash of ginger hair on Dim Dalba she'd thought… well, it didn't matter what she thought because Brienne was here to do her duty and she didn't have time to worry about what Tormund Giantsbane was up to.

" _Lady Crow_?" Brienne queried, "Ser I think-"

"It's what the Free Folk call the Knights Watch Milady," Pod broke in quickly whilst Brienne looked at him in confusion; she wasn't in the bloody Knights Watch!

"Ain't no Ser's here Lady Crow," Dim Dalba chuckled, "We know you're not in the Knights Watch but we've heard stories about King Crows Spear-Wife; stories 'bout how you wrestled a bear and mowed down four of those Bolton fuckers so Lady Crow it is."

He said this as though it was final and Brienne knew better than to argue with the camp elder; she could put up with being "Lady Crow" for a few days and it didn't sound half as condescending as when Little Finger called her lady. She would, however, like to know just how _everyone_ seemed to know about that bloody bear _and_ her rescue of Lady Sansa. Thankfully Dim Dalba seemed impressed by her prowess with a sword and not mildly horrified like most people were when they found out that a _Lady_ was hacking people to bits; regardless of whether they deserved it or not. From Brienne's admittedly limited knowledge of Wildling culture, she knew that a Spear-Wife was the term the Wildlings called their female warriors, so at least she wouldn't have to convince anyone that she wasn't actually Jon Snow's wife. Either way, it was more than a little cold to be just standing about like this and Brienne would very much like to be on their way before they all froze to death. She'd even been about to get back up onto her horse when Dim Dalba let out a very audible sigh behind them.

"You won't be needing that," he said as he pointed to the horses they were about to climb back onto, "It's walking from ‘ere on out."

"Walking?" Pod fretted as he looked over at the steadily deepening snow drifts, "But it'll take us _ages_ to walk through all that!"

"Fine; then you can be the one to bash it's ‘ead in with a rock when it slips over in the snow and breaks it's fucking legs," Dim Dalba growled at him, "Snow's no place for ‘orses. Leave ‘em behind or you can fuck off home and we'll take care of ourselves."

Judging by how the deep the snow seemed to get further on up the track Brienne had to grudgingly admit that they had been silly to bring the horses in the first place. Dim Dalba watched them silently as Brienne took everything out of the saddle bags that they possibly might need and strapped them onto Pod who shivered miserably in the snow. Most of it was too bulky to carry, including her tick sleeping blanket, and Brienne really wished that they could just get moving because whilst Dim Dalba might be used to standing about in the freezing cold, herself and Pod most certainly were not.

"So cold," Pod muttered as his teeth clanked together and Brienne was inclined to agree with him as she could no longer feel her own feet.

" _Cold_? This ain't cold lad," Dim Dalba scoffed as Pod began to shiver violently, "You want to go up to the Frost Fangs and have your piss freeze before your eyes if you want to know what real cold is."

He looked distinctly unimpressed by the pair of them; almost as if he'd been given a pair of useless imbeciles that he didn't quite know what to do with. Brienne's choice of outfit which was leathers, a thick heavy cloak, and leather riding boots seemed to bother him immensely as well and he looked her up and down; frowning as he did so.

"What the fuck 'ave you got on your feet lady Crow?" the Elder asked as he stared at Brienne's leather boots which were admittedly doing little to stop her feet from freezing, "You won't get far in those, not in this weather."

Then he gave a sharp whistle and three young Wildling men appeared as if from nowhere and were standing right in front of them before Brienne even had time to place her hand on the hilt of her sword. It was a tad disconcerting but Brienne couldn't help but be impressed at how silent the Wildlings had been and how they clearly used the snow to their advantage; unlike herself and Pod had been able to do. Neither of them was tall enough to be Tormund and Brienne couldn't decide if she was relieved or disappointed about that fact.

"Get the Lady Crow and her lad some proper boots," Dim Dalba instructed as the three men gave her a quick glance and nodded, "And make sure those bastard Hornfoots have stopped fucking singing!"

Then they were gone again; disappearing into the snow without a trace before Brienne could barely even blink. It suddenly dawned on her that they had been very foolish to think that the Wildlings would just let them walk into their camp without so much as a by your leave. They'd probably been watching them right from the moment they set out from Winterfell; that's why Dim Dalba had been waiting for them.

"You'd get an arrow in your forehead if I just let you wander straight into camp," Dim Dalba grumbled as if he knew what she was thinking, "We've got little'uns running about and my people don't take too kindly to strange folk."

"We're just here to help," Brienne said honestly but Dim Dalba merely grunted like he'd heard that before so Brienne didn't press the issue.

The wind was really picking up now and Pod was in danger of being blown over so Brienne adjusted some to the baggage she'd attached to him. They'd brought two tents with them but Brienne had had to leave one behind because it would have been too much for Pod to carry; she could put up with his snoring for one night. Dim Dalba watched them with mild curiosity as he continued to stand ankle deep in the snow and seemed entirely unfazed by the harsh conditions. Brienne had been about to ask him what the plan was for moving the camp when the three Wildlings were back; popping up beside her like they'd sprung up out of the ground and carrying two pairs of heavy, fur lined boots.

"Take Lady Crow's and the lad's horses back," Dim Dalba told them as Brienne quickly changed her footwear and stowed her boots into one of the remaining saddle bags.

Then he started speaking to the three men in a completely different language and Brienne and Pod waited patiently until Dim Dalba sent them on their way and abruptly started walking away down the snowy path; leaving Brienne and Pod jogging to catch up with him. For an elderly man he moved quickly through the snow and even Brienne with her long legs was struggling to keep up with him. The boots were a godsend though and her toes were already starting to feel less numb and she was beginning to wish she'd asked to borrow one of their thick coats as well. Beside her, Pod kept managing to find all the icy patches and was continually falling over much to Brienne's chagrin.

"Walk where I'm walking Lad," Dim Dalba instructed as Pod hurried to follow his footfalls, "Otherwise my lot will think you're a right cock if you keep falling over."

There were fewer incidents after that and as Pod squelched along behind them, Brienne tried to get some plan of action out of Dim Dalba. However, the elder just shrugged and told her "we're fucking walking Lady Crow" and carried on whilst Brienne tried to press the matter. This was a delicate operation and Brienne didn't want anything to go wrong or to cause offense because she wasn't properly prepared.

"It'll be fine lady Crow," Dim Dalba said as they rounded a corner and Brienne suddenly found herself face to face with about five thousand Wildlings, "We'll look after you and the lad."

It was a bit of a shock seeing so many of them together and Brienne couldn't help but notice that they were all staring at her but it wasn't the usual "What on earth is that?!" look Brienne usually got; it was suspicion. Before she could say anything to address this, Pod came skidding down the snow bank behind them and landed with a thud near Brienne's feet causing the amassed tribe to erupt with laughter. Great, Brienne thought as she hauled Pod to his feet, bloody great start they've made. Dim Dalba shook his head at them then moved forward and started shouting things in various languages and one by one, pockets of the tribe began to peel off and make their way across the snowy fields. It was actually quite fascinating to watch as sleds carrying food, tents and various other assortments were pulled along by teams of men as children ran along side them.

"They won't follow you Lady Crow so I'll leave you to make sure none gets left behind," Dim Dalba said as he pulled his hood up, "Chiefs gone on ahead so if you get any problems just tell em to fuck off."

"Wait, just what exactly-" But it was too late; Dim Dalba had already merged into the crowd whilst the rest of the Wildlings hurried on past them and glanced suspiciously over at Brienne and Pod as they did so.

"Come along Podrick," Brienne said resignedly as a band of children ran past them; laughing and pointing at Pod as he almost slipped over again.

After that they walked for what seemed like hours with no sign of stopping and Brienne was beginning to struggle; how did they have the stamina to do this over and over again? From what she's picked up the Wildlings would migrate to different camps as the seasons changed to find better hunting grounds and to escape the ever present threat of the Nights Watch. Even the little children seemed used to the seemingly never ending walking and they ran through the crowds like they had wings on their feet. Nobody talked to either Pod or Brienne and at the most, all they got were some curious glances and it hadn't escaped Brienne's notice that all the snatches of conversation she had heard were not spoken in the common tongue. It hurt a lot more than she was willing to let on to be regarded with such suspicion and animosity and she said as much to Pod.

"You'd think we were driving them to their doom," Brienne muttered as an elderly woman hurried past them; dragging a small boy by the hand in her haste to catch up to the rest of the tribe, "We're only here to help."

"But that's what they used to do Milady," Pod explained as they waited for the rapidly moving tribe to continue on by, "Rangers would go out and round up villages of Free Folk, promising them shelter beyond the Wall only to drive them off cliffs or torch them in boats."

"How do you know all this? " Brienne queried as they stopped to let a group of small children dart ahead of them.

"Tormund told me Milady." Pod said mildly as Brienne's eyebrows shot up to her hairline and her face blushed a little; since _when_ did Pod and Tormund even get aquatinted with each other?!

"When?!" Brienne asked as she tried not to get flustered and annoyed at the thought of her squire and Tormund being alone without her being there to make sure nothing happened. Her ears were starting to go red at the thought of Pod and Tormund alone… talking to each other… _anything_ could have been said. Not that she _expected_ that Tormund spent his days grilling people for information about her but… well… Pod still shouldn't have gone!

"He took me down here to introduce me to the Free Folk when you were busy with Lady Sansa, Pod explained, "He said the Free Folk were stubborn ba- stubborn _people_ and that they'd need to know that they could trust us; all of us."

"Why didn't he ask _me_?" Brienne asked as her voice went a little high pitched and she turned red again but thankfully Pod was too busy trying not to fall over to notice.

"He didn't think you'd come Milady," Pod said as he found his footing once more, "All though he did ask about you. A lot."

Brienne couldn't think of anything to say to that so instead, she marched on ahead whilst Pod hastened to catch up with her. She would have come down to the camp if she was asked to but clearly, for some reason or another, Tormund had preferred to ask Pod. After that, they walked in silence whilst Brienne mulled over what Pod had said; did the Wildlings really think that she was about to march them to their death? The Nights Watch was supposed to be an honorable service, or so she had been led to believe and looking at the crowds of mostly unarmed women and children she was having a hard time understanding their reasoning behind the mass murder of innocent people. No wonder they all looked so wary of her and Brienne suddenly felt guilty that she hadn't offered to come down into the camp herself to get to know the people here a bit more. Perhaps then they wouldn't be so apprehensive around her.

"Do you think the Wildlings-" Brienne started to ask as a little girl skipped ahead of them but Pod cut across her.

"I think they prefer to be called the Free Folk milady," Pod he said as he tried to walk through the heavy snowbank, "Wildlings is the name we've given them and I don't think they like it much."

Oh, Brienne thought; she didn't know that and then felt the heat rise to her face once more when her own words came back to haunt her; " _That Wildling fellow with the beard_." Brienne hadn't realized that she was being offensive and thankfully Tormund hadn't been around to hear them. Speaking of which, they hadn't seen Tormund all day; _not_ that Brienne had been on the look out for a tell-tale flash of red hair amongst the throngs of people. Moving such a large amount of people required a lot of effort and coordination and Tormund was clearly needed elsewhere. Maybe they would see him at dinner whenever that might be and Brienne trudged onwards with the rest of the tribe; her head now a swirling mass of thoughts. Tormund's behavior, whilst never outrightly offensive, had been an unwelcome annoyance because it seemed that no matter how far she went away from Tarth, the bullies would always find her. It was only after Lady Sansa had patiently explained that Tormund was clearly not making fun of her that Brienne felt even more awkward and uncomfortable. In some respects, she almost wished that he'd charged at her with an axe or called her some crude name like all the other men did because _that_ she knew how to deal with. The correct thing to do would be to talk to Tormund about it but Brienne was terrible at things like that and, having never been in this situation before, what would she even say?! Every possible scenario she had run through in her head just ended up sounding silly or she imagined him laughing cruelly at her and telling her that she was a beast and it was all for sport. Realistically she knew that Tormund would never be that unkind but it was easier to think the worst rather than to think that someone might _actually_ be interested in her.

"Milady?" Pod called breaking Brienne out of her thought mode and she realized that the Free Folk seemed to have at last stopped moving, "I think they've stopped now."

"Yes I can see that Pod," Brienne muttered as she pulled him out of the way of one of the sleds.

In the time that they had been walking the sun had risen and fallen and it was now almost pitch black, save for the campfires that were steadily springing into life. The rest of the camp was already taking shape around them and whilst Brienne was keen to see just how they got those massive animal skin tents up, she had her own sleeping arrangements to worry about. The tent she'd packed was small but it would do for one evening and it was better than sleeping outside in the snow, even though Brienne would have much preferred her own feather bed for the night. Dim Dalba was waiting for them with a group of young Free Folk men whilst Brienne and Pod struggled up the last bit of the snowy hill; their breath misting up the air in front of them.

"I'm quite capable of putting a tent up thank you," Brienne said before Dim Dalba could instruct his men to start putting up one of their own for her, "Come along Pod."

"‘Ave it your way Lady Crow," Dim Dalba said as he and the other Free Folk headed back to their admittedly warm looking tent, "You know where I am if you'll be wanting a roof over your ‘ead tonight."

Brienne smiled at him; thanking him for his concern and reassuring him that she was in no need of assistance and there was no need to put himself out. Once he'd left Pod dropped all the bags he was carrying with a loud groan and dutifully started unpacking their tent whilst Brienne supervised. Ignoring the small group of Wildlings that had gathered around them to watch, Brienne set about directing Pod on how to pitch a tent properly. She had chosen a spot a little way away from the camp, under the tree line so as not to be intrusive and let the Free Folk have their privacy. Whilst on the road looking for the Stark girls they had mainly slept in ditches or an Inn when they could find one and Pod was already having trouble following her instructions having never built a tent before. Near them, the Wildlings were pointing and talking amongst themselves in a strange language but Brienne soldered on; she was used to people muttering things about her under their breath.

"We're fine thank you," Brienne called as an elderly Wildling edged closer to them and started pointing to the trees and then back to the tent that Pod was still trying to put up.

When the tent was finally put up it looked somewhat disheveled it was only then that Brienne realized how thin it looked compared to the Wildlings thick, animal hide ones. In fact, it looked wrinkled, flappy and sad looking and Brienne really was not looking forward to spending the night in it. Dim Dalba gave her a very pitying look when he came to shoo away the little group of children that had gathered around to watch Pod hammer in the tent pegs. He kept hitting his thumb more often than the actual peg and had tripped over in the snow more than once much to their amusement. Brienne was stubborn though and she was going to bloody well sleep in that tent even if it meant that she had to huddle up closer than she'd like to with Pod for warmth. However just as she was about to inspect the inside of the tent, a huge mound of snow fell from one of the tree branches and flattened half of it; now she realized what the elderly Wildling had been trying to warn her about.

"You sure you don't want one of our tents, Lady Crow?" Dim Dalba asked whilst Pod looked forlornly at the broken tent.

"I'm not a-" Brienne grumbled but she was already being steered away from her sorry excuse of a tent and led into the back into the main encampment.

The Wildlings seemed to have some sort of system known only to them as to how they arranged themselves into all the different tribes, clans and elders and Brienne ended up hovering awkwardly with Pod as fires blazed into life, elaborate animal skinned tents were erected and chunks of unknown meat thrown into cooking pots. Having been in many a military camp Brienne was already dreading the filthy conditions; she'd seen many a rat scurry past her foot when she'd been in Renly's encampment but much to her delight the Free folk were anything but unclean. Everything appeared to have a place and Brienne watched as boots were removed before entering tents, children's hands and faces washed and meat scraps weren't carelessly thrown to the ground but meticulously cleaned away. There was a great sense of community about the place with people popping in and out of each other's tents, sharing food and helping each other to construct their huge tents.

"What you doing stood over there Lady Crow?" Dim Dalba called from his own tent, "You won't get fed standing about like that."

Pod was practically running towards the fire and it was all Brienne could do to keep up with him; her soggy clock sticking to her as she walked.

"Fuck off," Dim Dalba growled and two young boys instantly went running back to their own tents leaving Brienne and Pod with a rather toasty spot by the camp fire.

The heat from the campfire seemed to suck in the frigid air before it ever reached their frozen hands and fierce looking woman with long white hair added more wood and poked it with a long stick. It seemed to die a little as if unsure of itself and Brienne was worried it was about to go out when it licked at the new logs like a nervous kitten and then erupted into huge orange flames. A pot of some kind of stew was hanging above the fire and the white haired woman scooped out two bowlfuls and handed them to Brienne and Pod; her stern eyes watching them carefully. Taking the steaming bowl with trepidation Brienne noted that it appeared to be made out of the skull of some kind of animal. The spoon she'd been given also looked like it was carved from bone and Brienne tried not to look too apprehensive. Her old wet nurse used to tell her stories about the cannibal tribes that fought each other and ate whoever had the misfortune to lose the battle. It must have shown on her face how unsure she was because the rest of the Free Folk that were gathered around the camp fire were all watching her and they didn't look happy. You're being rude Brienne scolded herself and she picked up a bone spoon and dug into her stew; it was delicious. Thankfully it must have shown on her face because the rest of the Free Folk started talking amongst themselves again once more whilst Brienne finished off her food. There was a loud slurping noise next to her and Brienne looked over at Pod who was practically licking the bowl clean.

"Thank you, it was lovely," Brienne said as she wrestled the empty bowl from Pods grip and handed it over with her own to the elderly woman, "What was the meat? I've never tasted anything like that before."

"Whale," Dim Dalba said as he spooned the remains of the stew into an empty bowl and gave a piercing whistle, "Bet you don't have that this side of the Wall Lady Crow!"

Whilst Brienne was left to wonder how an earth they'd gotten whale meat all the way from the frozen North a young boy suddenly appeared at Dim Dalba's elbow and they started conversing in a different language. She hadn't been taking much notice until she heard Tormund's name mentioned at least three times and the bowl of stew was pressed into the boy's hands.

"And tell those bastard Hornfoots no more fucking singing," Dim Dalba shouted as the boy turned to leave, "I've fucking told ‘em before we even fucking set off!"

The young boy nodded and scurried away through the sea of tents leaving Brienne stomach to turn over in knots at the fact that Tormund might be making an appearance. If he acted the way he did around her at Winterfell than Brienne would probably die of embarrassment; she'd come to realize just how blunt the Free Folk could be even if she was getting used to all the swearing. If she _were_ to have a conversation with Tormund she would prefer it to be in a more private setting rather than in the middle of the Wildlings campsite. Time ticked on and when half an hour later Tormund still hadn't appeared Brienne began to relax somewhat; until Dim Dalba told her whose tent she would be sleeping in for the night.

"Look Lady Crow we don't have enough tents to go around and "I'll not be having King Crow say the Free Folk left his Spear-Wife to freeze to death out in't snow," Dim Dalba grumbled, "Chief'll be away all night doing the Long Walk to make sure we've got everyone and that those fucking Thenn's keep their hands to themselves."

Of course, the only spare tent they had would just happen to be Tormund's and Brienne tried and failed, to explain to Dim Dalba why it wasn't the done thing for an unmarried lady to sleep in another man's bed. Whilst she knew that she was being ridiculous and judging by the looks on the Free Folks faces they thought so as well but Brienne just couldn't seem to stop herself; what if Tormund came back in the middle of the night?!

"What about Pod?" Brienne asked desperately, "Where's he going to sleep?".

Dim Dalba made a funny clicking noise with his tongue and a group of young Free Folk suddenly appeared as if from nowhere, grabbed Pod by the arm and started pulling him towards a tent down the opposite end of the camp. They all had their hoods up but Brienne was certain she heard a distinctive female giggle amongst them; not that Pod seemed to mind.

"Don't get drunk!" Brienne called out but he had already disappeared off into the night.

"Don't worry Lady Crow," Dim Dalba chuckled as he led her over to a large looking tent near his own, "Young'n will all right with that lot; We know you Southerners get right funny about stuff like that."

Then he just left her standing there whilst he headed back to his own tent and Brienne with no choice but to make her way into the tent before she froze to death. Pulling the entrance flap back she cautiously crept inside and tried not to get muddy snow all over the floor with her huge boots. Once inside Brienne was pleasantly surprised at warm it already was in there; the animal hide must form some kind of insulation and her feet were already beginning to sweat in her fur boots. Venturing further in she found that everything was impeccably neat and organized; right down to the rather large axe that was propped up against one side of the tent. A pair of huge fur lined boots were set out near the entrance and Brienne pulled her own off to avoid tracking mud into the nice clean tent. The floor was made out of some kind of animal hide that had been worked and stretched out to lie flat on the ground so that no moisture could seep through; much unlike her own soggy tent. Holding up the tent were what appeared to be thick, heavy set animal tusks that were even taller than Brienne and she couldn't help but take a closer look. Ser Davos had mentioned that a lot of the Free Folk used mammoths to move about on and Brienne had to admit that it was a pretty ingenious structure. It was also, thankfully, very warm and within minutes she had stripped down to her tunic and breeches; setting her cold, wet clothes carefully to one side at the back of the tent. Her chambers at Winterfell were more than a tad draughty and Brienne found that she was no longer wishing for her feather bed as she wandered over to the side of the tent that was lined with an assortment of furs and blankets. It looked very inviting but she was still little hesitant to actually get in it; what if Tormund came back? Well if he came back now he'd find her stood there in barely anything more than her underclothes so Brienne quickly darted beneath the thick heavy furs.

  
Warmth spread through her frozen body and the soft furs were even more comfortable than she could have thought possible and Brienne settled in for the night as she rubbed her face against the soft pelt. It also didn't escape her notice that they had a very manly smell about them; like firewood and something musky but it wasn't altogether unpleasant, quite the opposite in fact. Not that Brienne had ever shared a bed with a man to know what a male person's bed _should_ smell like or anything else for that matter. For some strange reason, it was oddly comforting, a notion which confused and reassured her at the same time and Brienne wrapped the furs even tighter around herself. She'd eventually come to accept that Tormund's advances and bizarre attempts at courting really did come from the heart and were not just some horrible joke that he was playing on her. Being the object of someones very intense affections was something of a foreign concept to Brienne and she wasn't all that sure how to deal with it. That type of attention was reserved for pretty ladies of the court; not a great hulking beast like her as she was constantly reminded. She, and Arya for that matter, had gotten the shock of her life when Sandor Clegane had turned up back at Winterfell with the rest of the idiots that had gone with Jon Snow beyond the Wall. The shock had quickly turned to irritation as the Hound spent a gleeful afternoon teasing her that she was Tormund's "Blue eyed beauty" and Brienne had seriously considered finding another cliff to push him off of. At first, she had assumed that Clegane was referring to someone else, some Wildling girl that Torment had moved onto because _never in her life_ had Brienne been called beautiful without there being some cruel jibe behind it. She'd almost knocked Clegane's front teeth out for fear that she was becoming the punchline to yet _another_ cruel joke until Pod had quietly asserted that this was true.

  
"He calls you that all the time Milady," Pod had told her once the Hound and the rest of them had cleared off to bed, "He asked me if there was a special place in the South were great beauties like yourself were born."

  
Brienne had turned increasingly more red as Pod began to relay just what exactly Tormund had been saying about her. In the end, she'd had to make him stop under the guise of going out to practice his sword fighting skills before he inadvertently embarrassed her any further. By some stroke of luck, Tormund hadn't been with Jon Snow and the rest when they returned; the Free Folk had been getting fidgety and nervous without their leader and he'd gone straight back to the camp without stepping foot in Winterfell. _Not_ that Brienne was bothered about seeing him but it just would have been nice to check that they were all ok. A sense of dread had hit her straight in the chest when she'd watched them all troop back in, minus the red headed Wildling, and it must have shown on her face because Jon Snow started loudly explaining that Tormund had gone to check on the rest of the Free Folk. Whilst she was glad that they were all ok, even Clegane, Brienne couldn't believe how _unbelievably_ stupid they'd all been and they were lucky they'd only lost one member of their team and the poor dragon. Brienne had said as much to Lady Sansa who had merely smiled at her and assured her that they would see Tormund at the small council meeting that Jon Snow was holding the next day. That hadn't been that she meant but her protests had fallen on deaf ears as Lady Sansa continued to smile at her and repeated her insistence that Brienne attend the meeting with her tomorrow. Tormund was already there when Brienne crept in with Pod but he was locked in a serious discussion with Jon Snow and thankfully didn't notice her slip quickly into her seat. He'd had a big cut on his forehead and looked rather tired but none the worse for wear; Brienne had ended up hovering near the back of the room due to the Hound deciding that he and Tormund were now the best of friends. Clegane had repeatedly called Tormund a "Ginger Twat" but he didn't seem to mind and Brienne had supposed it was some kind of strange male bonding thing.

  
"See he's fine," Lady Sansa had whispered on her way out of the hall as she hastened to catch up to Sandor Clegane and before Brienne could reiterate the fact that she wasn't interested in that way.

  
It wasn't that Tormund was _unattractive_ it was just that Brienne was busy; busy trying to stop the Stark girls from killing each other and making sure that Little Finger didn't outstay his welcome then to be day dreaming about some strange man she hardly knew. Even if he _did_ think that she was beautiful then that was beside the point and even though Brienne wasn't entirely sure what that point was supposed to be. Pulling the fur covers even tighter around herself Brienne stared at the sloping roof of the tent as the noise from the people outside became reduced to a low hum. Maybe she should just tell him to leave her alone? She _could_ do that but it was just that she didn't want to, not really, and although Tormund made her nervous and uncomfortable it was never in a bad way; she just got flustered and unsure of herself whenever he was in the immediate vicinity. There was still that niggle in the back of her head, that seed of doubt that she didn't think would ever go away, that this was all some kind of big joke. Rolling over Brienne shut her eyes tight and tried to push all thoughts of Tormund Giantsbane out of her head as the noise of the camp carried her off to sleep almost instantly.

It felt like only minutes later when Brienne jolted awake, immediately feeling disorientated and confused as to why she was asleep in a tent as opposed to her nice warm bed back at Winterfell. Free Folk. Moving camp. Pod incapable of putting a tent up correctly; it was all coming back to her now. The noise of the camp had died down to almost nothing and the darkness surrounding her told Brienne that she must have been asleep for a good couple of hours. Tiredness from all that walking washed over her and Brienne's eyes fell shut once more, sleep almost upon her when something poked her gently in the face. It's nothing she told herself groggily, probably just the wind, and Brienne even let out a sleepy snore as she slid back into unconsciousness; huddling down underneath the warm furs. Barely a second later and she was awake again but this time Brienne was sure she felt something on her face. Just as Brienne was convincing herself it had been her own snoring that had woken her up there was another sharp poke to her face and this time Brienne _knew_  that there was someone else in here with her. It wasn't exactly difficult to work out who that person was and her teeth clenched together in anger; this might be Tormund's tent but that doesn't give him the right to paw all over her whilst she slept! Those vile Bolton's had tried to force themselves on her and Brienne would be damned if she let another man, woman or beast touch her like that again. Movement sounded on the other side of the tent and her heart thudded in her chest as she heard someone stepping lightly about the tent. Carefully moving her hand down between her legs Brienne removed the small dagger that she now kept there at all times; there might not be enough time to go for her sword but a dagger could do just as much damage when held in the right hands. They're all the same, she thought bitterly as she held the dagger tight against her chest, all of them just wanting to make sure that all Brienne was good for was to mocked, made fun off and abused. Of course, Tormund didn't think _she_ was beautiful and she'd been foolish to think otherwise; Brienne was just a bit of meat that he thought that he could take his share of and then be done with. He might be the leader of the Free Folk and one of Jon Snow's closet friends but Brienne wasn't about to just lay there and let him do whatever he wanted to her; regardless of the fact that she was surrounded by thousands of Wildlings who would most likely rise up and defend their fallen leader, Brienne edged the fur covering back and prepared to strike. 

  
"Daddy?" a little voice whispered in the darkness and Brienne froze; the dagger falling silently from her grasp.

_Oh._

"Shhh Little Mouse," Tormund whispered and Brienne had to strain her ears to hear him, "It's time for sleep."

The sound of furs rustling back and forth hit Brienne's ears and the tension eased from her shoulders a somewhat. Peeling the thick, heavy furs back a little Brienne sneaked a quick look over at the other side of the tent but all she could really see was Tormund's back. Of all the things she expected, a child was most certainly not one of them.

"In you get Little Mouse," Tormund said softly, "Come on, make room for your sister."

_Sister?!_

"Daddy," a second little voice, "Why can't you stay in here with us?"

"Because daddy has to make sure we haven't left anyone behind," Tormund said quietly and Brienne watched as he arranged the furs tightly around the two small children, "You'll be safe here."

"But what if the White Walkers come and eat us when you're not here?" the little voice said and Brienne could hear the fear in her voice. Maybe she should alert Tormund to the fact that she was awake and offer to sleep somewhere else? Or allow him to sleep in here with them, on the floor of course, so that his children wouldn't sound so frightened. Brienne was just debating throwing the fur covers back and announcing that she would gladly sleep outside when Tormund started speaking again.

"Nothings going to eat you Little Mouse," Tormund sighed and Brienne couldn't help but notice how sad he sounded and it hit her like a punch in the gut that this must have been a regular conversation he had with his daughters before they made the perilous journey to the Wall, "Do you want to know why?"

"Why?"

"Because the King Crow's Spear-Wife that's come to help us has a magic sword," Tormund said and Brienne could hear two little gasps of amazement, "If _any_ White Walkers dare step foot in here then she'll cut their heads clean off and turn them into icicles."

"Wow!" one of them whispered; sounding completely awestruck and Brienne couldn't help but blush. It wasn't often that someone sounded so confident in her fighting abilities; usually, she was met with scorn and ridicule even after they had seen her take down men like they were nothing more than saplings.

"I'll be right outside with Dim Dalba so you'll be perfectly safe," Tormund said quietly, "Now go to sleep."

Brienne ducked back down underneath the furs whilst Tormund was leaning over and kissing his children goodnight so that he wouldn't notice that he had an active audience. A brief gust of cold air hit her face as the entrance to the tent opened briefly and then all was quiet. Well, apart from the excited whispering coming from the bed opposite and Brienne could distinctly hear the phrase "Magic Sword" banding about more than once. Gradually the whispering died down and she was left listening to sound of the wind blowing outside and the gentle murmuring of voices coming from the other tents. So; Tormund was a doting father and not a savage rapist as that conniving Petyr Baelish had tried to get her to believe. Rolling onto her back Brienne stared at the roof of the tent as shame washed over her; what if she'd leaped out of bed and stabbed Tormund when all he had been doing was putting his children to bed?! What if she'd murdered him in front of his two little girls?! Prejudice, that's what it was and she'd fallen right into Little Finger's trap of thinking that the Free Folk were just wild, uncultured savages just like everybody else in the Seven Kingdoms. Yes, Tormund was a little forward in his advances but realistically Brienne knew that he would never actually _rape_ her. Granted they hadn't _actually_ had a proper conversation yet and their relationship was more Tormund staring wistfully at her or making her feel flustered when she was trying to teach Pod some basic swordsmanship. Deep down in her gut, Brienne knew that he was a good man but that didn't mean that she still wasn't a little bit hurt. If there were children then there must be a mother hidden away in the camp somewhere. Maybe the Free Folk took many wives and lovers and it wasn't so much of a big deal to them as it was this side of the Wall. Or perhaps Brienne had just gotten everything all wrong and Tormund hadn't been interested in her in the first place? Yes, thats probably it Brienne thought bitterly and she'd been _stupid_ and _foolish_ to think that perhaps just this _once_ she was deemed desirable to another human being.

"You are such an idiot," she muttered to herself as she rolled over and fell back into a restless sleep.

Brienne awoke sometime later to find two small children perched on the end of her bed; one of them almost nose to nose with her and peering at her intently in the darkness. They were tiny little things and Brienne suddenly felt even more like a giant than she normally did as they looked at her curiously. It was still pitch black outside and Brienne didn't think she'd been asleep for that long and suddenly her heart began to race at the thought of Tormund barging in here after his daughters and she yanked the fur cover almost up to her chin; almost sending the girls crashing to the floor in her haste to cover herself up. Thankfully they seemed to find her embarrassment rather amusing and dissolved into giggles whilst Brienne tried to preserve her modesty. It had grown very hot underneath all the furs and the tent was surprisingly well insulated so she had removed her tunic and slept in just her undershirt and the last thing she needed was for Tormund to find her half naked in his bed with his two daughters sitting on her feet.

"Umm… hello," Brienne said awkwardly as the two little girls continued to stare at her, "Seven blessings to you."

They were both dressed in miniature versions of the heavy fur coats and boots that all the other Free Folk wore with their hoods pulled up so all Brienne could see where two pairs of bright green eyes. Not having been around a lot of children before Brienne was a little stumped at how old the two girls appeared to be but she's _guessing_ that the one that little one, who was trying to hide behind her sister, is about four and the taller one is about six. There was a light dusting of snow covering both their coats which meant that they must have left the tent and been outside in the dark at some point. Either way, they both look far too small to be left to roam around unsupervised at this time of night; what if one of them got lost or had an accident? Septa Roelle, who had managed to find fault in just about everything Brienne ever did, would have scolded her within an inch of her life if she'd dared step even one foot away from her. Climbing up on another person's bed, even if it was her fathers, would also have been something she would never have dreamed of doing as a child but the two little girls look as though this is a regular pass time for them. It must be nice, Brienne thought to herself, to have your children climb up in bed with your for a cuddle or to tell them bedtime stories yourself rather than palm them off to a Septa. If Brienne was ever lucky enough to have children then there was no way she would _ever_ give them up to the arms of a Septa

" _You're_ not of the Free Folk," the taller of the two girls said suspiciously, "Why are you in our tent and sleeping in daddies bed?"

The little girl has inherited her father's very intense stare and her big green eyes roamed over Brienne almost like she could see straight through her. It would have been unnerving if Brienne wasn't so used to this from Tormund by now. Thankfully neither of them look that frightened to see her there though which is a relief; she wouldn't want to scare them or have the whole camp up in arms because she spooked the Free Folk leaders children.

"I'm a friend of Jon Snow's," Brienne explained as she tried not to sound too formal; she hadn't really had much interaction with children this young, "I've come to help you move your camp."

"Oh, you're King Crows Spear-Wife," the little girl said excitedly as she wriggled closer to Brienne before adding, "You make funny noises when you sleep. Did you know that?"

Brienne flushed bright red with embarrassment as she realized that probably the whole camp had been kept awake by her rather loud snoring. When she was a child Septa Roelle had forced her to sleep with a peg over her nose but not even that could stop her rather manly snores. The only person it never seemed to bother was Pod but that was perhaps because he was too polite to mention it to her.

"We went to get daddy because we thought you were dying," the girl told her as her sister continued to hide behind her, "But he said that all the Southern Folk make that sound when they sleep and to stop poking you."

If it's possible Brienne felt her face burn even redder at the thought of Tormund standing over her in the dark and listening to her wheezing away like a dying animal. Not that she was _bothered_ about what he thought about her but snoring away like that didn't exactly make a good impression. All though perhaps his wife snored as well, Brienne thought grumpily, and he was used to it.

"I'm Solfrid and this is my little sister Hala," Solfrid said as she removed her hood, unleashing a mop of unruly, bright red curly hair as she hopped down off the bed and her sister almost fell off the end in her haste to follow her, "Our daddy is the leader of the Free Folk."

Brienne could hear the pride in her voice at that last bit and considering that the Free Folk chose who they wanted to lead them rather than just followed a line of succession it must be a great honor. The two girls were on the other side of the tent now and Brienne sat up to watch them. Solfrid's hair just seemed to be _everywhere_ and Brienne could help but notice how it kinked to one side exactly like her fathers did. Both girls also had Tormund's well-defined cheekbones, milk white skin and their eyes were the exact same shade of bright emerald green. Not that she ever really looked that intently at Tormund; it was just a keen observation that's all Brienne tried to convince herself.

"Well, it's very nice to meet you Solfrid," Brienne said politely and Solfrid beamed back at her, "And you Hala. I'm Brienne of Tarth."

Hala didn't seem as sure of Brienne as Solfrid did and she slid even further behind her sister, leaving Brienne feeling even more huge and lumbering than she normally did. She just seemed so small, even when standing next to her sister, and it suddenly occurred to Brienne that perhaps she had never even seen anyone that wasn't a member of the Free Folk; especially not ones that showed up unannounced in her tent. Solfrid pulled her sisters hood down to reveal yet more flaming red, curls; clearly an inherited trait from their father. Someone had clearly attempted to braid it into submission and failed miserably as both girls seem to have enough hair for at least four other people.

"What's a Tarth?" Solfrid asked as she pulled her thick fur boots off and set them neatly to one side. She called to her sister in a language that Brienne didn't understand but Hala just shook her head, her hair flying all over the place, and remained where she was; watching Brienne warily.

"That's the name of where I'm from; the Isle of Tarth," Brienne explained as she tried not to take it to heart that he little girl was clearly quite frightened of her,

"It's an island down in the South."

"Oh," Solfrid replied, her eyebrows knitted together in confusion as she obviously had no idea what an island was, "We're Giantsbane's because daddy's great-great-great-great grand-mummy was a giant."

Brienne frowned slightly; she wasn't sure how accurate that story was but maybe it was more a story meant for children. Surely that couldn't be anatomically correct either? That being said Tormund _is_ very tall and most likely his daughters would be as well.

"Do you have giants on this side of the wall?" Solfrid asked hopefully and looked highly disappointed when Brienne shook her head, "Oh. We used to know lots of giants but daddy said that Wun Wun was the last one."

"Who's One One?" Brienne asked in confusion causing Solfrid to fall about laughing. It was a nice sound considering the battle they were soon about to face and Brienne couldn't help but smile about with her.

"It's Wun Weg Wun Dar Wun silly," Solfrid said as the name rolled off her tongue and Hala started laughing as well, only to fall silent when Brienne turned to look at her, "Everyone in our tribe called him Wun Wun though."

Brienne had never seen a giant or really believed of their existence until she stumbled across a footprint that could have only come from something extremely large whilst riding back to Winterfell from Riverrun. Considering that they now knew of the existence of dragons and White Walkers, a giant stomping through the seven kingdoms was probably the least of their worries.

"He was daddy friend and he used to let us sit on his shoulders so we could see the flashing lights in the sky," Solfrid said sadly as she made her sister sit down so she could pull her small boots off, "But he's dead now. We watched daddy, King Crow and Dim Dalba set him on fire so he wouldn't turn into a White Walker and eat us all."

"Oh," was all Brienne could think of to say because she wasn't entirely sure it was appropriate to let such small children watch a giant being burned down to ashes. The Free Folk obviously had a very different system when it came to raising children but it made Brienne sad to think that children as young as this should already know about the army of the dead that was steadily marching toward them.

"The Bolton Bastard shot him in the eye and daddy said that made him a coward," Solfrid said promptly whilst Brienne almost choked at hearing the little girl use a swear word, "Daddy said we're not to be sad though because Wun Wun lives with the Old Gods, all his giant friends, and Murt the mammoth he used to ride now but we still miss him don't we Hala?"

Hala nodded abruptly before ducking behind her sisters back again; peering out at Brienne whilst Solfrid pulled her thick coat off for her. Underneath their fur coats, they wore simple cotton tunics and leggings and even though she never wore dresses herself, it was still strange to see two young girls in trousers. Dresses probably wouldn't be much use in the snow she reminded herself as Solfrid tried to sort out her sister's hair.

"Don't mind Hala," Solfrid said as she tucked their coats neatly away to one side, "She doesn't talk much anymore."

Before Brienne could ask why that was Solfrid had climbed up onto Brienne's makeshift bed and pulled her sister up after her. For a moment she was worried that they might actually get underneath the furs with her but instead, they nestled down near her knees. They must do this all the time with their father, Brienne thought, and she shifted her legs to make room for the two girls. Then she watched as Solfrid stretched her tiny feet out in front of her and whispered something to her sister in that strange language Brienne had heard all the other Free Folk speaking in all day. They didn't seem all that fussed that Brienne was essentially a stranger that had turned up unannounced in their father's bed and they were a lot more friendly than most adults she had met. Still, Brienne hadn't had much experience with children especially when they're this small and she wasn't entirely sure what to do. Solfrid and Hala _seemed_ happy enough but maybe she should go and get Tormund or try and find the children's mother? That would prove difficult though as she had no idea where Tormund or his wife would even be. It wasn't like she could just go sticking her head into random tents and hope for the best; she'd probably get a spear straight through her gut. However, this was their tent and Brienne was only a guest so in the end she just watched as the girls got themselves comfy.

"What about polar bears or snow leopards?" Solfrid asked as she wriggled her toes into the soft fur, "Do you have them this side of the wall?"

"Well no," Brienne admitted drawing yet another disappointed look from the two girls, "There might be some regular bears in the woods though."

"What do you have then?" Solfrid grumbled as Hala began to peer slowly out from behind her back.

"Well, we have books and-"

"What's a book?" Solfrid broke in as Brienne struggled to think of something that the girls might find interesting on this side of the wall.

"Well… it's like a story but it's written down so you don't forget it," Brienne tried to explain whilst Solfrid remained unimpressed that a book wasn't something that had a mouthful of very sharp teeth.

"Daddy tells us stories all the time and _he_ never forgets," she told Brienne whilst Hala nodded vigorously, "You Southern folk are strange."

Brienne was under the distinct impression that the girls were greatly disappointed by the lack of ferocious beasts on this side of the wall; regardless of how much more advanced the "Southern Folk" appeared to be. She was also feeling more than a little guilty at assuming that the Free Folk's old traditions were somehow more inferior to that of everyone south of the wall.

"You should ask daddy to tell you the story of when he climbed the Wall for the first time or when he hunted Grag the Great White Bear," Solfrid told her seriously,

"I bet they're much better than any book _and_ daddy always does the voices."

Admittedly that did sound rather fascinating and Brienne was beginning to see Tormund in a rather different light now that she had met his children. From her brief time in the encampment, she felt she had come to understand the Free Folk a little better and some of Tormunds seemingly odd habits didn't seem so strange anymore. Here was a man who clearly doted on his daughters and didn't exactly live up to the savage, barbaric reputation that the rest of the world had bestowed upon his people.

"Do you live in that big camp with King Crow and the rest of the Southern Folk?" Solfrid asked excitedly, "Do all the people from the south live there?"

It must have been very strange for them to have come from a land of essentially ice and snow and living in small clans to all of sudden seeing all these huge stone buildings. Brienne didn't know how much Tormund had told his children about life beyond the wall or even how much about it _he_ knew about himself so she was careful in her answer.

"No, not everyone. Just the people that serve the Stark family which is why I'm there," Brienne explained and she couldn't help but notice that the little girl screwed her face up at the word "serve", "There are lots of other castles and houses that people live in."

"What's a house?" Solfrid asked as her eyes lit up with curiosity.

"Well… it's like a tent but made of stone," Brienne said as she struggled to come up with an explanation that the girls would understand, "You get your own room and you wouldn't have to sleep outside."

"Why is that better than sleeping in a tent?" Solfrid questioned, "I'd be lonely all by myself without Daddy and Hala."

Admittedly Brienne was pretty stumped on how to answer that and was beginning to regret suggesting that the stone walls of Winterfell were better than the traditional animal tents of the Free Folk. She was still learning though and perhaps over time, she would stop putting her big, clumsy foot in it.

"Daddy doesn't like the stone tent. He told us that it's smelly and the food tastes horrible and it's full of horse poo," Solfrid explained whilst Hala giggled at the word "poo", "Daddy said that our tent is much better _and_ warmer than the cold place you Southern Folk live in."

Brienne couldn't really disagree with that because there was a definite whiff about Winterfell and she supposed that if you spent most of your life outside amongst the wilderness than the dreary stonework would be a bit of a let-down. Solfrid then spent the next ten minutes explaining the best bits about sleeping in a tent, in the manner that only a small child could do, from the Mammoth tusks holding it up to the reindeer skin serving as the floor and why it was infinitely then smelly old Winterfell.

"I think your tent is very nice," Brienne said and Solfrid broke out into a huge smile, "In fact; I like it much more than my own bed."

"Do you want to come back when daddies here?" Solfrid asked hopefully, "He can tell you one of his stories or show you how we put the tents up!"

"I'd like that very much," Brienne said honestly although she wasn't sure how the girl's mother would feel about that. Maybe jealousy or friendships between men and women amongst the Free folk wasn't that big of a deal as it was in the seven kingdoms?

"Why does the Little Man live up there if nobody likes him?" Solfrid asked suddenly and Brienne was at a loss as to who she was refering to.

"Which little man?" she asked, hoping that Tyrion Lannister wasn't skulking about the place.

"The one that smiles but has mean eyes," Solfrid said, "And wears the bird on his cloak."

"You mean Little Finger?" Brienne said and the little girl nodded in agreement.

What on earth did Lord Baelish want with the Free Folk? He'd made his opinion on them very clear earlier and Brienne could see no reason at all for him anything to do with them.

"Daddy doesn't like him. He tried to get into our camp once but daddy and Dim Dalba told him to go away," Solfrid told her in hushed tones, "Daddy said that we're not supposed to talk to him and that if we see him near the camp again we have to get him or Dim Dalba."

Hmmm, Brienne was almost certain that Dim Dalba and Tormund had probably used harsher words than "go away" when confronted with Little finger and she wished she could have seen the look on his face. The Free Folk might live in tents but they were very far from stupid and Lord Baelish was bound to find that out the hard way if he continued to creep about their camp at night. It was also a relief to know that somebody else thought that Little Finger was up to no good and it wasn't just Brienne being paranoid. Now if she could just convince Lady Sansa of this…

"I like your hair," Brienne said as she tried to steer the conversation away from that awful man and pointed out Solfrids wonky braids, "Did your mother do it for you?"

"We don't have a mummy anymore," Solfrid replied bluntly, "The White Walkers ate her when they came into our camp back when Hala was little."

Brienne felt all the colour drain from her face all at once; she'd put her big clumsy foot in it again. Their mother was… dead? Or rather eaten alive by monsters and Brienne felt her face flush in shame for thinking that just because Tormund was a Wildling, that he would be involved in some form of primitive bigamy.

"Then mummy tried to eat us," Solfrid carried on as her expression clouded over whilst Hala huddled up against her, "And daddy had to kill mummy. He cut her head off with his axe but she still kept moving so daddy had to set her on fire. He made us stand outside but we could still hear the horrible noise she made."

She said it so matter of factly that all Brienne can do is stare the pair of them because of all the things she had been expecting, Tormund having to kill his own wife in front of his children was not one of them. Her feelings of sorrow were quickly replaced by anger as she looked at the two small children in front of her. _Why_ weren't they on this side of the wall sooner? _Why_ had the Free Folk just been left out there whilst they all sat safely in their stone walled houses? She couldn't even imagine what that must have been like for Tormund; taking an axe to his own wife's head in order to save his children? Death wasn't kind. Brienne knew that. It snatched where it could, taking people who were far too young, far too good. She might never have known Tormund's wife but that didn't stop her from feeling the pain that only the loss of a mother could bring. Death didn't even pretend to care and it certainly didn't pretend to distinguish between Free Folk, Southerner or even the high born because death comes for us all eventually.

"My mummy died when I was your age," Brienne said quietly as the feelings she'd never quite really dealt with from her mothers passing opened up again.

"It's not very nice is it?" Solfrid said sadly as Hala laid her little head on her sister's shoulder.

"No," Brienne sighed as she tried and failed to remember the feeling of her mother's arms around her or the smell of her soft brown hair, "No it's not."

"But we've still got daddy and he does all the things that mummy used to do," Solfrid said as her expression brightened almost instantly, "Except he's not very good at doing our hair but we don't mind, do we Hala?"

Hala shook her head in agreement, sending her hair flying all over the place again, and smiled shyly at Brienne before hiding behind her sister again. The poor little thing was clearly either very shy or simply traumatized by everything she had experienced living beyond the Wall. Perhaps she could try and convince Tormund to let the Maester have a look at his daughter?

"Daddy's mummy and daddy were killed by the Old Bear Crow when he was little like us," Solfrid told Brienne, "Then his brother and his sisters so Dim Dalba looked after daddy because the Free Folk always stick together."

If it's possible Brienne felt her heart break even further because even though her mother was gone she still had her father and she didn't like to think of Tormund all alone without anyone. It must have taken a great deal of strength for him to go out beyond the Wall with Jorah Mormont, knowing who his father was.

"Daddy says mummy lives with the Old Gods now, even the bits the White Walkers ate. He said we can hear her in the wind if we listen really carefully," Solfrid said and Brienne could tell by her face that she believed it, "Maybe you can hear your mummy too?"

"I'd like that," Brienne said as she smiled at the two girls, "I'd like that a lot."

"Are you going to help daddy and King Crow kill the White Walkers?" Solfrid asked hopefully and even Hala peered out at her from behind her hair.

"Yes," Brienne replied fiercely, "Yes I am."

"See Hally," Solfrid said as she nudged her sister in the ribs, "Daddy _said_ that she would kill any of the White Walkers if they came into our tent!"

Brienne smiled warmly at the smaller girl in what she hoped was a friendly way but Hala only retreated even further behind her sister.

"Has she always been like this?" Brienne asked whilst Hala was distracted with the tassels on the end of her tunic.

"No, she used to talk all the time but then one day the men and the Spear-wives went out hunting whales and we were left with all the old people. That's when the White Walkers came again and we had to hide up the trees in the Haunted Forest until daddy came and found us," Solfrid explained whilst Brienne did her best to not look too horrified, "When we got back to camp the White Walkers had cut all our friends into little pieces and now Hala doesn't talk much anymore, except to me and daddy."

"I'm sorry," Brienne said quietly because there weren't really any words she could say that would make the situation any different.

"Why? Daddy says Hala will talk when she's ready to," Solfrid said, "And that most people who talk all the time don't have anything interesting to say anyway."

"I know but-"

"Daddy said you fought the Big Dog," Solfrid burst out excitedly as she moved quickly onto another topic of conversation as only a small child could, "The one that's frightened of fire!"

Brienne's nostrils flared at the mere _mention_ of the Hound and it irked her that Tormund and Sandor Clegane had suddenly decided to become best friends. _If_ she was in anyway interested in what Tormund got up to in his spare time then she would have told him to steer well clear of that foul man. There are plenty of other non-Free Folk people he could associate himself with if he wanted to. People that don't go around kidnapping young girls for a start.

"Yes but-"

"Did you stab him with your magic sword?" Solfrid asked as she and Hala scooted closer to Brienne so that they wouldn't miss a single word, "Daddy said you punched him in the face _and_ bit him on the ear."

Great; the Hound has made her out to be some kind of savage that goes around assaulting unsuspecting strangers. Not that she needs to explain herself but _if_ Tormund would like to hear the _real_ story, with the bits that Sandor conveniently left out like how he had drawn on her first _and_ kidnapped Arya Stark, then he's very much welcome to. All she had done was try and keep her oath and if that meant taking down men like Sandor Clegane a peg or two then so be it. Solfrid and Hala are still looking at her expectantly though and Brienne ended up telling them the full story of her fight with the Hound in the hope that they might pass it on to their father. She tried to keep it as age appropriate as possible but Solfrid kept interrupting whenever she tried to gloss over the gory bits and Brienne begrudgingly told them how she'd pushed Clegane over a cliff top much to their delight.

"We heard the King Crow saying how you rescued his sister from the Bolton Bastards Tin Men," Solfrid said as she clambered closer in the hopes of hearing another particularly violent bedtime story, "If someone hurt _my_ sister than I'd hit them with daddy's axe. One of the stupid Cave Tribe boys pushed her once so I punched him in the face and made his nose bleed. Daddy said that next time I'm to hit him harder."

It's almost like having a mini Tormund in front of her and the air almost crackles into life around Solfrid as she talks about defending, albeit violently, her little sister. From what Brienne's gathered nobody seems to like the Cave Tribes because according to Solfrid they're smelly, stupid and cowardly. She's halfway through explaining exactly how hard she hit one of the Cave Tribe boys when Hala tugs on her sleeve and whispers someone in her ear.

"Hala wants to know if you bit them on the ear as well?" Solfrid said as Hala resumed trying to hide behind her, "Or did you just stab them?"

"Who?" Brienne asked as she struggled to keep up with the little girl's energetic attention span.

"The Bolton Bastards Tin Men," Solfrid explained, "The ones you were saving King Crow's sister from."

"Yes, I was protecting Lady Sansa from-"

"Why do you have to protect her?"

"Well because Lady Sansa can't fight –

"Why?"

"Because Ladies in the South aren't supposed to learn how to fight," Brienne told her whilst Solfrid turned her nose up once more.

"Daddy says it's silly that the Kneelers don't let the girls learn how to fight," she said and Brienne couldn't help but agree with her, " _I_ can shoot a rabbit dead in the eye from fifty footfalls away and even Hala knows how to string a bow and she's only small."

She looks very proud of herself and Brienne can't help but smile even though it does sound a tad gruesome. Her father would never have dreamed of letting her anywhere near a sword or a bow and arrow and Brienne had resorted to sneaking out at night to practice. Jon Snow had commanded that all the girls in the North be taught how to wield a sword, bow and arrow and a Morningstar something which Brienne thought couldn't have come soon enough. Why should the girls have to sit about waiting for some man to defend them when they were just as capable of doing it themselves?

"Did your father teach you how to shoot a bow and arrow?" Brynne asked even though she already knew what the answer was going to be; the Free Folk weren't likely to let their children grow up without learning how to defend themselves.

"Yeah, and how to skin things," Solfrid said proudly as she tried to push her mass of hair out of her eyes, "Yigritte did as well; she helped daddy make my bow and arrow for me when I was littler."

"Who is Yigritte?"

It came out a little bit harsher than Brienne intended, not that she _cared_ if Tormund had taken up with someone after the passing of the girl's mother. It would just be preferable to know if she should extinguish that tiny, little bit of interest in Tormund's Giantsbane that had flickered into life.

"She was our friend," Solfrid said as she traced her fingers along the pattern in the fur quilts, "Daddy rescued her when the Crow's came and killed everyone in her camp but she's dead now too."

Brienne was sensing a rather tragic occurring theme here so she tried to move the conversation to something else but Solfrid beat her to it once again.

"Have you met the Dragon Lady with the silver hair?" the little girl asked as she bounced up and down in front of Brienne with excitement.

There was only one person the "Dragon Lady" could be referring too and Brienne was rather hopeful that she might one day meet the would-be queen.

"Not yet no." She admitted whilst Solfrid was becoming even more animated by the minute; after growing up with giants, mammoths and polar bears the notion that there was two fire breathing lizards flying around didn't seem to phase her in the slightest.

"Daddy has! _And_ he got to ride on the dragon!" Solfrid squealed as if her father being airborne on something that didn't come with a saddle, reigns or adequate fire safety instructions was the best news she'd ever heard, "Daddy said that the Dragon Lady might let us _pet_ the dragon!"

Both Solfrid and Hala seem extremely excited by the prospect of meeting some huge scaly beast with giant teeth and that can breathe fire at will. The whole of Winterfell had seen the three massive dragons flying overhead on their way to the Wall to rescue Jon and his merry band of lunatics from the White Walkers. As impressive as they were Brienne wasn't sure that touching one of them was the very best idea; what if it decided it didn't like you or burnt you to ashes? At least Tormund had given his daughters a rather vague version of events instead of the _actual_ version which involved them all almost being killed and the Night King taking out one of Daenerys's dragons with an ice javelin.

"That's very… I'm sure…" Brienne trailed off as she was drowned out by Solfrid's excitement about someday being able to meet Drogon the Dragon.

Privately Brienne knows that it's not her right to interfere with a parent's wishes but there's no way she's going to let two small, flammable, children come within fifty feet of a dragon. If Tormund decided that he was going to allow his daughters anywhere _near_ Daenerys Targaryen's dragons than Brienne has decided that she will have to supervise the endeavor. The last thing they need they need is the leader of the Free Folk getting his head bitten off by a dragon and Brienne would very much like Tormund's head to remain attached to his neck if at all possible.

"Do you want to see the gift I made for daddy?" Solfrid asked hopefully whilst Brienne was running through the safety procedures one might need for petting a dragon in her head.

Before she can answer Solfrid has already jumped off the mound of furs serving as Brienne's bed and run off to the other side of the tent to retrieve something. Hala didn't follow her this time and much to Brienne's delight she shuffled a little bit closer; watching her intently with her huge green eyes. She didn't hide away when Brienne offered her a warm smile and instead, she blushed furiously all the way up to the roots of her flaming red hair making it seem as if her whole head was on fire. Barely two minutes later Solfrid was back and had climbed up to sit right up next to Brienne; her little warm body tucked in close and her hair ticked Brienne's nose.

"Hala helped me make it," Solfrid explained as she took Brienne's hand with her small one and laid something in her palm, "We're going to give it to him when we get to the new camp."

It was two intricate bundles of twigs tied together with what looked like bits of Solfrid and Hala's hair and a little seashell was stuck to the center of it.

"It's too stop daddy being sad," Solfrid explained as she took it back from Brienne and carefully laid it in her lap.

"Oh," Brienne said somewhat surprised, "Why is daddy sad?"

Tormund had always seemed rather upbeat and happy despite the fact that they were facing a war against both the living and the dead whenever Brienne had briefly come into contact with him. He also had this air of confidence about him that Brienne was secretly rather jealous of; like he knew exactly who he was meant to be wouldn't let anybody tell him any different.

"Because he couldn't stop the White Walkers eating everyone at Hardhome and now all his friends are dead," Solfrid said as she fiddled with some of the twigs, "We heard Dim Dalba talking to daddy and he said that if the Lion Lady stays in charge then she won't want us here and we'll have to leave. Then we'll have to run away in the night like we always do."

Brienne had heard Jon Snow telling Ser Davos in hushed tones about the massacre that was Hardhome, how thousands of people were snuffed out in the blink of an eye only to be brought back to some hellish existence moments later. It had sounded terrifying and it made Brienne's stomach churn to think that the vast majority of the White Walkers army must be made up of the Free Folk; people that Tormund and his daughters must have known.

"Whenever the crows found us we had to run away and leave everything behind whilst they set our tents on fire. We had to hide in the caves with the smelly cave tribes until they'd gone," Solfrid continued as her nimble fingers re-tied some of the hair holding the twigs together, "Daddy was really sad after that so we went to stay with the King Beyond the Wall. He's dead now too."

Another dead person? Brienne was losing track of just how many poor people had lost their lives during the Giantsbane's and the rest of the Free Folks struggle just to make it to some kind of safety. She felt stupid and ignorant for ever believing that the Free Folk were just a bunch of savages that were only there to be extra bodies for Jon Snow's army. They were _real_ people with families and children of their own and Brienne couldn't even begin to imagine how much they had sacrificed just to get themselves as far away from the White Walkers as possible.

"Daddy's not very good at counting either," Solfrid explained and she was almost sat in Brienne's lap now and even Hala had crept even closer, "He doesn't want anyone to get left behind when we move camp that's why he's gone on the Long Walk."

"What's the Long Walk?" Brienne asked as she shifted her legs, pretending not to notice as Hala tucked herself in near her shoulder.

"You walk back to your old camp to make sure nones gotten lost on the way," Salford explained as she held out her twig bundle for Hala to look at, "That's where daddy first found Scruff all alone the snow. Hala and I looked after him until he was better and then daddy taught him how to tell us when the crows were coming."

"Whose Scruff?" Brienne asked in trepidation; hoping that this wasn't some other poor person that had gotten decimated by the White Walkers or killed by the Knights Watch.

"Our dog. We had to leave him behind at HardHome because there wasn't enough room in the boats," Solfrid said looking downcast at the loss of her pet, "Daddy set all the other dogs loose as well so he wouldn't be lonely."

"I'm sure he's having a nice time out in the snow with all his friends," Brienne said as she tried to sound upbeat when she was really worrying about how many packs of undead dogs could be coming their way.

"Do you think Daddy will like it?" Solfrid asked and Brienne could detect a hint of worry in her voice, "I wanted to make it extra special for him because he's the _best_ daddy ever."

"I think he'll love it," Brienne told her and Solfrid's face lit up with a big sunny smile, "Would you like something else to put on it?"

Solfrid nodded eagerly, her hair bouncing all over the place, and Brienne reached down and lifted her cloak up off the floor. Pinned to the neckline was a tiny silver pin that depicted a sun and a half moon, the Sigel for House Tarth and Brienne removed it as Solfrid and Hala both watched her with interest. By the time she had finished attaching the broach to the little stick creation Hala had almost crawled into her lap; her little face lighting up once Brienne was finished.

"Look Hala!" Solfrid cried as Brienne handed it over to her and she showed it excitedly to her sister, "It's a moon for you and a sun for me!"

Hala's eyes turned comically wide as she took the twig bundle from her sister and looked at the shining silver pin with an expression of awe on her face. She looked over it for a few more minutes and it seemingly passed the test as she passed it back to Solfrid.

"It's pretty like you now," Solfrid said happily as her small fingers traced over the small silver sun and Brienne felt her face flush in the darkness.

"Well.. I don't…" she stammered as the girls climbed over her and back down onto the floor.

"Daddy thinks you're pretty," Solfrid interrupted as she started pulling her boots back on and Hala nodded vigorously, "We heard him talking to the Big Dog and he said you've got yellow hair like the sun and blue eyes like the Shivering Sea. That's all we heard though because the Big Dog kept telling daddy to be quiet."

There's was a sharp noise outside, a cross between a whistle and a bird call, and Brienne was saved from answering as the girls quickly pulled their thick coats back on and pulling their hoods up.

"Good bye Brienne of Tarth," Solfrid called and before Brienne could say or do anything they'd both run out of the tent.

The girls had vanished by the time Brienne had dressed, reattached Oathkeeper and pulled on her thick heavy boots. The chatter and the sound of hundreds of footfalls moving swiftly along outside were disorientating and it took Brienne a minute or two to get her bearings once she finally exited the tent. Even though the sun was barely creeping over the horizon it appeared that she had slept in because hers was the only tent that was still standing. The Free Folk had to move around it on their way down to their new campsite and some of them gave her a funny look when she stumbled out and almost fell face first into the snow. Clearly correctly exiting a tent was an art form that she had yet to master and taking one down as elaborate as this was also out of her skills base and Brienne dithered about wondering what to do.

  
“Crow,” someone grunted behind her and Brienne turned around to find a rather ferocious looking man with lots of hair standing in front of her.

  
“Yes?” Brienne said but before she could assertion as to what he wanted the man and a group of Free Folk men had already descended upon the tent and in less than five minutes they had it dismantled and packed away onto a waiting sled.

  
“Tormund,” the man grunted again but this time he pointed ahead of himself and out into the crowd, “Lady… Crow.”

  
He didn't speak much of the common tongue but before she could say thank you they were gone and much like the rest of the camp site, it was as if the Free Folk hadn't even been there at all. Even any trace of the hundreds of fires that had been burning last night had been lost amongst the snow. Moving in the direction that he had pointed Brienne hurried through the crowd; she needed to find Pod and make sure he hadn’t drunk his weight in wine or guzzled that awful soured goat's milk the Free Folk seemed to love so much. Whilst she walked Brienne mulled over all the new information she had acquired from her night spent with the Free Folk. Tormund having two adorable daughters were defiantly not what she was expecting and Brienne can see now why he’d headed straight back to his camp after returning with Jon Snow. The fact that he was a brave and a well-respected leader amongst his own people, and now within the so called “Southern Folk”, was a given but that wasn’t what was making her think so much about the leader of the Free Folk. Brienne had always believed that honor and valor came in the form of gilded armor and an oath sworn before a king but maybe that wasn’t the way for everyone. There was something about a father setting aside his own grievances to make sure his children stood even a _chance_ at surviving the war to come that made her respect Tormund even more. His determination to get Solfrid and Hala to a place of safety, even if that meant turning to the very people the Free Folk had been fighting with for generations, showed just how far he was willing to go for his own people. Brienne’s heart ached for those two little girls though; especially Hala who appeared to have been rendered mute from the terror the White Walkers had caused in her short life.

  
_“It’s too stop daddy being sad.”_

  
Brienne didn't like to think of Tormund being sad either, it seemed wrong somehow, but after losing the majority of the Free Folk in the massacre at Hardhome and then his giant friend she could see how he perhaps wouldn't be in the best frame of mind. She should be kinder to him, Brienne told herself sternly as she moved her way through the never ending crowd, or perhaps offer some assistance if he and his daughters needed any adjusting to life beyond the wall. Brienne could teach Tormund to read and write if he was interested; then the stories that he told his little girls would be there for the next generation of Free Folk children. That's if they didn't all get sucked up into the Night Kings army she thought uneasily as Solfrid and Hala had definitely opened her eyes up to how much of danger they were all in.

  
“POD!” Brienne shouted as a young man with short dark hair moved up ahead of her but when he turned around and showed off a set of razor sharp filled down teeth and intricate facial scaring, she hurried on her way.

  
An hour of walking later and Brienne had still yet to locate her squire even though his dark cloak should have been easily visible amongst the sea of white and brown furs. She wasn't too worried as Pod was more than capable with a sword and was probably just stumbling along in a hungover state. Tormund’s daughters also appeared to be long gone and Brienne couldn’t help but fret that she should have made them wait with her until an adult came to collect them. The sheer number of the Free Folk moving about would make it easy for one of them to get lost and Brienne strained her eyes to see if she spot either of the two little red heads. She had just finished climbing up a steep bank a little while later when there was a break in the crowd and up ahead the graying ginger hair of Dim Dalba came into view; Hala and Solfrid skipping along beside him. It was a relief to see them safe and well with the elder and Brienne quickened her pace to catch up with them. Realistically she knew that very little harm was likely to come to them, not when they were surrounded by the Free Folk, but Brienne just wanted to make sure that the two little girls were alright. Her long legs carried her quickly through the snow and she had almost reached them when Solfrid turned around and waved at her but before Brienne had a chance to catch up with them both Hala and Solfrid abruptly took off running through the crowd. It was that noise that had set them off; that weird whistling sound that Brienne wasn't entirely sure was coming from man or beast.

  
They were zigzagging through the crowd; their nimble little feet flying over the snow at a speed that Brienne could never have attained. Solfrid had her hand wrapped tight around her sisters and they were both shouting something in that strange language that Brienne had yet to understand. The whistle sounded again and they switched direction; darting this way and that between the legs of the other Free Folk. The snow had started to fall now but that didn't stop Brienne from noticing the huge figure that was stalking its way towards the two unsuspecting girls. Brienne surged forward, her hand already on her sword despite the fact that the snow was already falling at a fast pace. The Free Folk seemed like a decent bunch but even in Tarth, they’d heard stories about the cannibalistic Thenns. What if one of them decided to kidnap the chief’s daughter and start some sort of revolt? Cursing herself that she hadn’t insisted that the girls stick close to her until they found their father; Brienne started to push her way through the crowd. She’d barely gotten three feet when that bloody whistle sounded out again and Hala broke free from her sister and went charging ahead running as fast as her short legs could carry her. That’s when the stranger darted forward towards Hala and Brienne’s heart almost stopped in her chest because she’d never reach the little girl in time if this unknown assailant intended to her any harm. That didn’t stop her from charging through the crowd; scattering the Free Folk to one side as she went. Oathkeeper is almost in her hand when a gust of wind blew the strangers hood off and Brienne stopped dead in her tracks as Tormund scooped his youngest daughter up and threw her up in the air; her little laugh carrying through the air. Solfrid had reached them by now, bouncing up and down as she chattered animatedly away to her father, and Brienne felt her face flush when she realized that the little girl appeared to be acting out someone being bitten in the ear and then pushed violently off a cliff. Unfortunately, Tormund seemed most intrigued by this and Solfrid repeated her little mime but this time she included the bit where Brienne had hit Clegane repeatedly in the head with a rock. Blushing furiously Brienne merged herself back amongst the Free Folk who were moving swiftly onwards all around her and she should have started moving again before her feet froze but she couldn’t help but stay and watch the little family.

  
Solfrid was now tugging on Tormund’s sleeve until he set Hala down on the ground and crouched down next to her; holding her close as she pulled something out of her pocket. Her hair had erupted out from her hood and Brienne watched as Tormund valiantly tried to move it away from her face whilst the cold wind whipped it around in frenzy. Eventually, he gave up pushed it back inside her hood only for it break free once more a few seconds later. Brienne moved a little closer, her feet were about to freeze solid if she didn’t, and Solfrid was now showing Tormund her little twig gift and pointing out all the different pieces to it. She was too far away to hear what they were saying but Tormund seemed to be listening intently to what his daughter was saying and then he pulled her and her sister in a huge bear hug; kissing them each on the forehead. Carefully stowing his gift away in his pocket, Tormund swung Hala up to sit on his shoulders and sent her into a fit of giggles again. They looked like they were about to move on when Solfrid was tugging on her father's sleeve again and then before Brienne could move, the little girl turned around and pointed right at her. Her feet seemed almost glued in place as Tormund look directly at her, smiling widely as he waved at her and Brienne couldn't help but blush bright red as she raised her hand and waved back at him; a shy smile on her lips.

“Milady,” a voice said next to her and Brienne was so caught up in the moment that she hastily turned around to find a very bedraggled looking Pod standing next to her.

  
His cloak was completely skewed, his hair mussed and he seemed to be swaying slightly as he stood causing Brienne to roll her eyes in annoyance. A young wildling girl that had been hovering nearby blew Pod a kiss and gave him a very ungainly courtesy before she flounced off into the crowd; giggling loudly as she went.

  
“PODRICK!” Brienne scolded as she took in the state of him, “What on earth have you been up to?”

  
“Nothing Milady,” Pod mumbled even though he stank of alcohol and had several scratch marks on his neck.

  
Sighing heavily Brienne turned back around to find that Tormund and his daughters had disappeared; blending easily into the crowd as they moved onwards with the rest of the Free Folk. The disappointment at not seeing them again hit her harder than she realized and it took Pod gently tugging on her arm to get her to realize that he had been speaking to her.

  
“Time to go Milady,” Pod said as he pointed over to where one of the young Free Folk men had their horses waiting by the track that led back to Winterfell.

over to where one of the young Free Folk men had their horses waiting by the track that led back to Winterfell.  
Struggling through the slippery snow Brienne made it to her her horse with relatively little difficulty; unlike Pod who’s feet slid out from underneath him at almost every turn. Once he’d finally made to his own horse Brienne set about removing the thick fur boots she’d borrowed until a voice called out to her from the crowd.

“Keep ‘em for next time you visit us, Lady Crow,” Dim Dalba shouted as he broke free from the band of steadily moving people, “You and the lad are welcome anytime just remember to leave the fucking ‘orses at home!”

  
Brienne smiled at him as they set off back down the track to Winterfell but as she rode through the gates she couldn't help but think how she’d much rather be back inside that deliciously warm tent and tucked up underneath those strongly scented furs. 

 


	2. Lord Bird

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne is back at the Free Folk camp and hoping to have her first proper conversation with Tormund, only her plans are put into disarray when she's given the job of babysitting Robin Arryn for the day, who insists on seeing the "savages". Whilst Brienne makes peace with the Hound, gains a new friend and is reunited with Tormund’s daughter', things quickly take a turn for the worst as Robin makes his presence in the camp felt...

The sun had barely risen over the horizon when Brienne made her way out of her chambers and down for breakfast in the great hall. Only a few servants were up and about at this hour which meant that there wouldn't be anybody to question why Brienne was sneaking off down the track that led to the Free Folk camp. Barely a week had passed since she’d spent a very pleasant evening with Tormund’s two daughters, Solfrid and Hala, and Brienne hadn’t been able to get the little family out of her mind since. After learning so much from them about the Free Folk culture and about Tormund Brienne been feeling rather guilty about judging Tormund so harshly before she’d taken the time to get to know him. Well, she still _didn’t_ know him that well as they’d yet to have a proper conversation but Brienne had decided to change that. She was going to go down the Free Folk camp that very morning and offer her apologies to Tormund if she had come across as rude or stuck up. It had taken her two days to pluck up the courage to even consider doing this and now she was almost on her way, Brienne was starting to get nervous. What would she say when she actually saw Tormund? What if she sounded like an idiot? Or what if Tormund wasn't interested in speaking to her again? Realistically, Brienne knew that that wasn’t true but the fear that she was still just a big joke to Tormund still wouldn't go away no matter how much she wished it would. 

 

“ _Daddy thinks you’re pretty_.”

 

Honestly? Brienne didn’t know what to do with that. _Lady Sansa_ was pretty. _Queen Margery_ had been pretty. Brienne was just… Brienne. Or rather “Brienne the Beauty”; the ugly, mulish looking beast that was far too tall to be allowed. Since childhood people had been cruel to her about her looks but Brienne was beginning to think that perhaps the meanest person, the one that threw the most hurtful insults, was actually herself. In a desperate attempt to try and see what Tormund was seeing when he looked at her, Brienne had dragged herself out of bed in the middle of the night and stood in front of the mirror. For one brief, shining moment Brienne thought she _could_ see what she really looked like; big blue eyes, full lips, high cheekbones but then that was quickly replaced by all the cruel things people had said to her over the years and she’d given up. Laying back down in her hard bed, she'd already begun to miss those soft furs, but Brienne was still very confused about what she felt or if she even felt anything at all for the leader of the Free Folk. What she _did_ know was that she really would like to get to know Tormund a bit more. They would, after all, be on the same side of the battlefield and it would do well to know what type of fighter he was if nothing else. 

 

“Tarth.” A voice grunted and Brienne was a little annoyed to find the Hound already seated at one of the long tables and slurping down a huge bowl of porridge. 

 

She gave Clegane a curt nod and took a seat a few rows away from him, quickly busing herself with ladling out a bowl of porridge for herself. Inside Brienne was squirming; she still had yet to apologise for almost killing Sandor Clegane and she knew that she should at least say _something_ but Brienne was still a little embarrassed about the whole situation. The Hound didn’t seem all that fussed about almost dying at her hands and he even appeared to relish the fact that it was a _woman_ that had, almost, done him in. Her eyes fell on the missing chunk from Clegane’s ear and Brienne idly wondered if Solfrid and Hala had given Tormund _her_ version of events. Perhaps she could fill him in if they hadn’t? Or she could explain further about her oath and how she was just trying to protect Arya, much like he was trying to protect his own daughters, and that if Clegane hadn’t been so _rude_ than she might have tried a bit harder to prevent him from falling off that cliff. Stifling a yawn Brienne tucked into her porridge and wondered what Clegane was up to at this hour and prayed he wasn’t thinking the same thing about her. She could always go outside under the pretence of training Pod and wait for him to leave but it was still far too early for her squire to be even out of bed yet. Not to be unkind but Brienne would also rather _not_ take the chance that Pod would follow her down to the Free Folk camp when they were finished sparring. Not that she _needed_ to explain herself to anyone but Brienne would rather keep her little expedition to herself for now at least. It wasn’t like she was even going to be there for very long anyway; just time enough to say thank you to Tormund for letting her stay in his tent. All though she couldn’t exactly go all that way without saying hello to his girls now could she? 

 

Brienne was midway through her porridge when Lord Baelish came striding into the hall, pulling her thoughts away from the two little red haired girls, and she could hardly keep the scowl off her face. Her feelings towards the despicable little creep had only intensified after her last stay at the Free Folk camp; when he made Tormund out to be some kind of sexual predator. The fact that Little Finger had wormed his way into her head somehow had really _irritated_ Brienne; she should have _known_ he was trying to coheres her into doing something stupid. It made her uneasy knowing just how close she was to sticking that blade into Tormund’s neck all because Baelish had dredged up memories she would rather have remained buried. Well, Brienne was on her guard now and she watched curiously as Baelish walked right past her and sat down opposite Sandor Clegane. 

 

“What the fuck do you want?” Clegane grumbled without looking up from his porridge as he all but scraped the bowl clean.

 

Brienne canned her head to listen as Baelish brushed off the insult with one of his customary smug grins. What on earth would he want with a man like Clegane? 

 

“Lord Arryn would like a tour of the Wildling camp,” Lord Baelish said and Brienne’s eyes widened in shock, “I would be very grateful if you were to accompany him whilst I have more pressing matters with Lady Sansa to attend to.”

 

“I bet you do,” Brienne muttered to herself as she regretfully decided she wouldn’t be going to the Free Folk camp today; not if Little Finger was going to be creeping around after Lady Sansa. 

 

“Not my job to be looking after spoilt little cunts anymore,” Clegane grumbled as he slurped down the rest of his porridge, “Find another dog to do your dirty work.”

 

“My apologies Ser Clegane,” Baelish replied but his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, “We all owe you our gratitude for your service to the dearly departed King Joffrey.”

 

“Fuck off,” Clegane said as he threw his bowl down and stomped out of the hall whilst Brienne tried to pretend that she a) hadn’t been listening to every word and b) looked busy enough so that Little Finger would sign her up for the arduous task of looking after that _horrid_ Arryn boy. 

 

Baelish drummed his fingers on the table and looked faintly annoyed as he watched Clegane march out of the hall; scattering servants this way and that as he went. Someone clearly isn't used to being told no, Brienne thought with a smile, but her smile quickly faded when Little Finger looked up and caught her staring at him. Her cheeks reddening, Brienne immersed herself back into her food and tried unsuccessfully to sink down lower in her chair.

 

“Lady Brienne,” Little Finger called as he strode over to her whilst Brienne inwardly cursed herself that she hadn’t just skipped breakfast and gone straight down to the Free Folk camp. 

 

Without asking if the seat was free, or even if she minding him sitting there, Lord Baelish sat down opposite Brienne and smiled; the corner of his lips curling in amusement when she scowled at him. 

 

“Lord Baelish,” Brienne muttered, “I’m sorry but I really have to-”

 

“I assume that you heard me talking to our dear friend the Hound earlier about Lord Arryn’s request to visit the Free Folk camp?” he cut in without even waiting for her to respond, “I would be very grateful if you were to accompany him down there.”

 

It sounded much less like a request, more like an order and one that Brienne really did not feel comfortable undertaking. 

 

“I serve Lady Sansa Lord Baelish,” Brienne reminded him as she tried to go back to her porridge, only for Little Finger to pull the bowl away from her.

 

“Lord Arryn is Lord Paramount of the Vale and it would do well for him to meet all his subjects,” he said, “And it would do _you_ well Lady Brienne to learn how to speak correctly to a Lord.”

 

A Lord that brought his position through treachery and deceit Brienne thought to herself and besides, the Free folk _weren’t_ subject's. 

 

“Apologies _my lord_ ,” Brienne said, “But it's up to Lady Sansa or Lady Arya if-”

 

“Lady Sansa is in agreement with me that it will be good for her cousin to see the rest of the Seven Kingdoms; starting with the North,” Lord Baelish cut in once again much to Brienne’s annoyance, “He will arrive tomorrow and you will accompany him down to the Wildling camp the day after.”

 

Flustered for a moment, Brienne desperately tried to think of a way out of this; Robin Arryn didn’t seem like the type of child that should be anywhere _near_ other people, let alone ones that were still trying to acclimatise to their new surroundings. It was also irritating that Little Finger was just _demanding_ that she do this without even discussing it with her and it was doubtful that if she had been a man he would have done the same thing. 

 

“I really don’t think that this is a good idea Lord Baelish,” Brienne said before he could interrupt her again, “The Free Folk are still getting used to their new camp and life beyond the Wall. Perhaps this would be better saved for a later date?”

 

“I would have thought you would have been glad of another visit,” Baelish said as he smiled coldly at her, “By all accounts, I heard your last visit went _quite_ well.”

 

By some grace of god, Brienne didn’t go red, even as the smell of those soft, warm furs came back to her and she held her ground as Lord Baelish continued to stare at her as though he was looking right into her brain. It was unnerving and Brienne began to squirm uncomfortably until she remembered that he’d never been allowed into the Free Folk camp. There was no possible way he could know that Brienne had slept in Tormund’s tent _or_ that she had rather enjoyed herself and was looking forward to visiting again. Feeling a lot more sure of herself, Brienne matched Baelish’s stare with one of her own as she pulled her bowl away from him.

 

“As opposed to _your_ visit Lord Baelish?” Brienne said as she smiled at him, “From what _I_ heard it seems like the Free Folk didn’t take too kindly to you snooping about their camp.”

 

Baelish gave himself away for a moment as a look of irritation slipped through his perfectly polished veneer; it must be _killing_ him not to know exactly what was going on up at the Free Folk camp. 

 

“Perhaps you could extend an invitation for me?” he said softly, “Or perhaps instead I could ask Tormund Giantsbane if there’s _anything_ he might want, something that only _I_ could provide, in exchange for the Free Folk’s service in such a troubling time.”

 

Tormund wouldn’t do that; he wouldn’t want Brienne to be sold to him like some cart horse and she hated Little Finger for even assuming that he could do that to her in the first place. 

 

“You will take Lord Arryn to the Wildlings camp Lady Brienne,” Lord Baelish said as he rose to his feet and the tone of his voice told her that she had no choice, “And you will make sure that no harm comes to him otherwise the punishment will be quite severe for yourself and your new found friends.”

 

Once he'd glided out of the hall Brienne threw her spoon down in frustration; her plans for having a one to one conversation with Tormund laying in tatters.

 

It was awfully chilly in the courtyard and Brienne rubbed her hands together in a bid to combat the ever increasing cold that was nipping at her skin. In her haste to be on time, she had forgotten her gloves and had already decided against going back to her room for them. It would be just her luck that Lord Arryn would arrive for his so-called tour of the Free Folk camp whilst she was off somewhere else. Little Finger would love that, she thought bitterly to herself, as she blew hot air onto her hands to try and warm them up. Brienne had already been waiting for at least an hour and was getting increasingly annoyed at Lord Arryn’s bad manners. In the time she had spent waiting Brienne could have returned for her gloves _and_ been to the Free Folk camp and back again with time to spare. Whoever’s ridiculous idea it was that Lord Arryn should be taken on a tour of the Free Folk camp clearly needed their head testing but nobody seemed to be interested in listening whenever Brienne brought up what a bad idea this was. In a last ditch attempt to scupper the trip, Brienne had taken Arya and Pod out for some sword training in one of the nearby fields ensuring that she would miss the Lord of the Vale’s arrival. Arya didn’t really need much assistance but it would be useful for her to learn how to fight in the cold conditions and Pod got the added benefit of training with someone other than herself. She’d hoped that her absence would have been enough to ensure that the Free Folk remained undisturbed but, unfortunately, Little Finger had been waiting for her when she had ridden back into Winterfell late in the evening.

 

“You’ll be quite safe with Lady Brienne my Lord,” Little Finger had smirked when Brienne had been called over to the High Table to be introduced to Lord Arryn, “She’s become a great friend to the Wildlings _and_ she even knows how to use that beautiful sword she carries.”

 

He’d been mocking her and Brienne had had to stand there dutifully whilst he did so and offer additional reassurance to Lord Arryn that he would be quite safe with her. Granted, she had only met him briefly but Robin Arryn didn’t seem like he’d ever even been outside let alone undertaken a long trek in relatively harsh conditions and Brienne was at a loss as to why he even wanted to go in the first place. Something just seemed _wrong_ about him and he’d kept telling her that he would “push the savages through the Moon Door” if they displeased him and Brienne couldn’t quite tell if he was joking or not. Little Finger had been gloating behind his nephew and one of these days Brienne was going to wipe that never ending smirk right off Lord Baelish’s face; with or without her sword. Unfortunately, that day was not _today_ and she was stuck being Robin Arryn’s glorified babysitter for the day. Another hour ticked slowly by and Brienne was almost frozen with cold before the boy finally made an appearance.  

 

“Lord Arryn,” Brienne said as she rose to her feet from where she’d almost been nodding off on the steps, “Seven blessings to you.”

 

The boy was awfully weedy looking and wearing only a winter cloak, gloves and little else that would be of use for a brisk walk up a steep hill in the snow. In contrast, Brienne had on her thick snow boots that Dim Dalba had given her and she eyed Robin’s leather riding boots with trepidation; it would be just her luck that Robin would fall over and break his leg whilst under her supervision. Brienne had been about to suggest that he could borrow Pod’s boots but Little Finger suddenly loomed up behind Robin and Brienne decided against it. If Lord Baelish discovered that she had been given a gift by the Free Folk then he would only try and use that as some form of leverage against her. 

 

“Why aren’t you wearing a dress?” Robin asked without even taking the time to say good morning or bothering to acknowledge the fact that Brienne had been waiting out in the cold for a rather long time, “ _All_ ladies are supposed to wear dresses.”

 

Brienne scowled at him; she was used to this type of reaction by now but it still stung to be so blatantly insulted. The boy appeared to have no social skills what so ever and Brienne was already dreading having to spend the entire day with him. 

 

“Shall we get going my lord?” Brienne said loudly rather than having to address the comment or respond to the smug look on Little Finger’s face, “We don’t want to lose the light now do we?”

 

She’d been about to leave when Little Finger bent down to inspect her new boots; his hand reaching out for them until Brienne took a step away from him.

 

“What splendid boots Lady Brienne,” Lord Baelish said as he all but grabbed her leg, “A gift from our new primitive friends no doubt?”

 

“Thank you,” Brienne replied curtly as she steered Robin away from his Uncle and across the courtyard, “Come along Lord Arryn.”

 

Little Finger waved them off but Brienne was all too aware that he was watching them as they walked past the stables and continued on through the snowy courtyard. Brienne had already made up her mind that she was going to get this little visit over with as quickly as possible and _then_ go back by herself to speak to Tormund. It was purely to thank him for being so hospitable and inform him how polite his daughters were but it was something she would rather not do with Robin Arryn in tow. 

 

“Why are we walking?” Robin whined as they set off through the gates of Winterfell, “Why can’t we get a coach? 

 

“Because the horses won’t be able to walk through the snow,” Brienne explained wearily as Robin looked sulkily at the heavy snow banks, “They’d lose their footing and end up with a broken leg.”

 

“So? Winterfell has lots of horses!” Robin sulked as he hurried to catch up with her, “Is it because the savages will eat the horses?”

 

“Savages?” Brienne queried as the set off down the path; it was only a half an hour walk to the Free Folks new camp if you went at a brisk pace, “What do mean by “savages” Lord Arryn?”

 

“The bad people that used to live on the other side of the Wall,” Robin wheezed as he was becoming out of breath from simply walking up a hill, “Uncle Petyr told me about them.”

 

“They’re not savages or “Bad People”, Brienne explained as she tried not to get too irritated with the boy, “They’re people just like you and me.”

 

“Humph,” Robin snorted as Brienne let out a heavy sigh and carried on up the hill regardless.  

 

They’d only been walking for ten minutes and Brienne had already decided that she hated the Lord of the Vale. The boy was rude, spoilt and had little to no redeeming personality traits that Brienne could find as she trudged wearily up the road beside him. He wasn’t exactly what one would consider “Lordly” material and Brienne dreaded to think about the day when Lord Arryn might actually have to lead men into battle. The longer they walked the more apparent it became that Robin was terrified of his own shadow and he let out a loud scream when a fox had darted across their path; yelling at Brienne to stab it with her sword. It had bounded away into the trees before she could even blink but that didn’t stop Lord Arryn trying to pull her sword out of its sheath; almost dragging Brienne to the ground in the process. Never in her life had she come across such behaviour and Brienne ended up having to wrestle her sword hilt from the boy’s fingers lest he accidentally stabs her in the leg.

 

“Lord Arryn!” she shouted as the Robin continued to panic over a relatively small woodland creature, “It would be a lot easier for me to protect you if you _let go of my sword_!”

 

“But it could have eaten us or killed us!” Robin cried as he finally let go and Brienne fought very hard not to give him a swift smack around the ear; it was a bloody fox, not a dire wolf! 

 

Brienne wasn’t about to go charging up the road with her sword held out in front of her; that was the quickest way of getting an arrow straight through her forehead! The Free Folk didn’t even know they were coming because Lord Baelish had sent them on their way without seeing fit to make any prior arrangements beforehand. Granted the Free Folk couldn’t read so that meant a letter wasn’t going to work, but that didn’t mean that some sort of messages couldn’t be sent. It didn’t sit right with Brienne but there wasn’t a lot she could do about it now and she could only hope that Tormund and his people would be as accommodating as they were the last time. It was making her nervous walking into the unknown with someone who she had relatively little control over. Pod did whatever she asked of him without question but Robin Arryn was a lord and Brienne had no authority to pull him up if he did something wrong. Watching Lord Arryn continue to be frightened by the smallest things such as a bird flapping its wings, Brienne sneezing and the sound of a twig snapping was beginning to grate on her. Surely someone else could have done this? Perhaps one of the Lords of the Vale or Petyr Baelish himself could have accompanied him? Maybe not, she thought, as she remembered Solfrid telling her that Tormund had banned Little Finger from entering the Free Folk camp. Still, Brienne felt very uneasy about bringing Lord Arryn up here when he seemed to have an extremely lacking knowledge of the Free Folk.

 

“Do you even know anything about the Free Folk Lord Arryn?” Brienne asked as she tried to gauge just how much damage control she was going to have to do once the Lord of the Vale made it to the Free Folk camp.

 

“Only what people have told me. That they’re dirty, smelly and most of them can’t even speak properly,” Robin said whilst Brienne stopped dead in her tracks and stared at him in horror, “Most of them just grunt and point at things because they’re stupid to know any better.”

 

“ _Lord Arryn_ ,” Brienne said and she could barely keep the anger out of her voice, “You _cannot_ say things like that! If the Free Folk-”

 

“But it’s true,” Robin shrugged not in the least bit bothered by the fact that what he was saying was completely ridiculous, “Uncle Petyr told me that most of them can’t even read or spell!”

 

This was bad, this was very bad and it didn’t matter that Brienne then spent the next twenty minutes carefully explaining to Robin everything she had learned about the Free Folk culture and how they most certainly were not savages; the boy chose to remain ignorant. It didn’t get any better when Brienne tried to ascertain what Robin’s relationship was like with his own people in the hopes of finding some common ground he could share with the Free Folk. Whilst Robin wasn’t quite at the Joffrey level of amoral sadism he was immature, obviously lacking in intelligence and had little regard for his own people, let alone the Free Folk, and it showed.  

 

“My uncle says you have to do what I tell you,” Robin said with a very Lord Baelish like smirk, “And that you have to kill any of the savages if they try and hurt me.”

 

“I doubt it will come to that,” Brienne muttered, “If you’d _listened_ to what I’ve just been telling you then you’d know that the Free Folk are very honourable people and-”

 

The rest of what she had to say was drowned out by Robin’s loud scream as a large owl swooped down from one the overhanging tree branches and cuffed him round the head with one of its wings. If Brienne didn’t know better than she would have said that the bird did it on purpose but that was ridiculous; it was an owl, not a person. Robin was shaking and trembling like a sickly old man and Brienne had to wait a full ten minutes until he calmed down enough to resume walking. 

 

“Why did Uncle Petyr let you have a sword if you’re not going to use it?” Robin asked as he practically tried to cling onto her arm before Brienne could brush him off, “You should have killed that fox and that owl!” 

 

“ _Let me_?” Brienne asked through clenched teeth as she all but pushed him away from her, “I’m sworn to House Stark, _not_ Lord Baelish. And I have a sword because _I_ know how to use one!”

 

Inside she was fuming; it wasn’t anything to do with Lord bloody Baelish what Brienne did or what she carried about her person. Little Finger was probably being cautious because he knew that Lady Sansa should only have to say the word and Brienne would quite happily detach his head from his shoulders. 

 

“Girls shouldn’t fight or have swords,” Robin said, forgetting his earlier insistence for Brienne to kill any “savage” or poor woodland creature that came within three feet of him, “Everyone knows that.”

 

Anger coiled in her stomach and Brienne internally seethed that just because she was a woman, she should automatically leave herself defenceless. Brienne was better with a sword than half the men in the Seven Kingdoms; they knew and she knew it which was why she was often treated with such hostility. 

 

“Do _you_ know how to use a sword?” Brienne growled before she checked her tone and added, “ _My Lord_?”

 

“No but that doesn’t matter,” Robin shrugged whilst Brienne tried to keep the look of distaste on her face down to a minimum, “I’ve got other people to do the fighting for me or I can just push them through the Moon Door.”

 

They carried on in relative silence after that because Brienne really didn’t trust herself to speak anymore. She’d also come to the realisation that they were being watched, and had been for some time, and Brienne could feel eyes on her even if she couldn’t see them. It didn’t make her feel uneasy though, nor did she bother to reach for her sword, and she carried on up the hill regardless. No doubt the Free Folk had been alerted to their presence some time ago much like the first time Brienne had come to visit but she kept this little piece of information to herself. An owl suddenly hooted in the tree branches overhead and Robin was sent into a panic once more; almost crying in fear. Brienne really didn’t have the energy to deal with the hysteria that would follow if he knew that they were not the only two people out here. 

 

“It’s just an owl my Lord,” Brienne sighed as Robin continued to tremble beside her.

 

They’d barely gone three more paces when Dim Dalba and four huge, bearded Free Folk men suddenly materialised out from behind a tree. How long they’d been standing there and waiting for the slow Southern Folk to make it up the snowy hill Brienne had no idea, but she was rather pleased when Dim Dalba gave her a warm smile. Robin, on the other hand, lets out a loud whimper and darted behind her which Brienne chose to ignore; she was too busy trying to work out if one Tormund was one of the hooded men. When it became apparent that none of them was the red headed Free Folk leader Brienne couldn’t help but feel disappointed. To avoid listening to Robin’s winging she’d spent the majority of the walk up here rehearsing what in her head what she was going say to Tormund once she saw him.

 

“Lady Crow,” Dim Dalba said but his eyes were fixed on Robin who was staring at him with a look of abject horror on his face, “Nice to see you again. Who the fuck’s this?”

 

“Lord Robin Arryn of the Vale,” Brienne explained as Robin cowered under Dim Dalba’s intense stare, “He wanted to come down and meet the Free Folk and offer his support for the coming war ahead. Lord Arryn this is Dim Dalba, an elder of the Free Folk.”

 

Dim Dalba raised his eyebrows at her; clearly not believing that Robin’s intentions were as pure as Brienne had made them out to be. Brienne watched him hesitantly and she almost wished that he would just tell them to go away so she wouldn’t have to inflict Robin on the rest of the Free Folk. That wish was quickly squashed because as irritating as Robin was, Brienne was really rather hoping to see Tormund and his daughters again.  

 

“What the bastard fuck’s a Vale?” Dim Dalba asked his face scrunched up in confusion and Robin’s mouth dropped open at the elder’s rather colourful language.

 

Brienne, who was used to all the swearing by now, then spent ten minutes trying to explain what the Valley of the Vale was before Dim Dalba held his hands up; plainly not interested in sky castles or moon doors.

 

“Wait here,” he grunted as he continued to look at Robin with intense dislike before disappearing off amongst the huge snow banks; leaving the four gigantic men guarding the entrance to the camp.

 

Brienne offered them a smile which they did not return but instead gave her a curt nod which she supposed was better than nothing. Dim Dalba had barely been gone five minutes before Robin started moaning about having to wait for the elder to return.

 

“ _Why_ are we just standing here?” he winged, “I _want_ to see the savages!”

 

“Shush!” Brienne snapped as the men guarding the camp exchanged severe glances with each other, “You’ll just have to be patient and wait.” 

 

Robin Arryn seemed confused at being told he had to wait and Brienne was beginning to wonder how on earth the Hound had spent so much time with Joffrey without wanting to hit him. Boy’s Robin’s age had already been to war or worse but Lord Arryn seemed incapable of understanding that he wasn’t Lord here and that Free Folk could simply tell him to piss off if they weren’t interested in entertaining him for the day. Thankfully before Robin could insult the Free Folk anymore, Dim Dalba returned and waved them over; the four men blocking their way moving to one side and melted back into the snow covered trees. Brienne left Lord Arryn to make his own way down the icy track as she followed on after Dim Dalba and she couldn’t help but be a little excited to be entering the camp again. 

 

“Tormund and ‘is scouts ‘ave only just got back and they’ll be wanting some kip,” Dim Dalba explained as he glided back towards her, “I ain’t being the one ’t wake ‘im up so we’ll just ‘ave to get on with it.” 

 

“Oh,” Brienne said as she failed to keep the disappointment out of her voice; the entire conversation she’d carefully prepared seemingly rendered useless. Of course, Brienne would most likely see Tormund at Winterfell at some point but… it just would have been nice to see him that’s all.

 

“I should ‘ave asked him but it’s too late now Lady Crow,” Dim Dalba told her whilst Brienne was thinking that there was still a chance that Tormund would be awake before they left, “You keep an eye on Lord Bird cus one of my lot will ‘ave his fucking eye out if he keeps looking at 'em like that.”

 

“Sorry,” Brienne muttered but before she could go any further Robin abruptly grabbed her by the arm and tried to pull her away from the elder.

 

It was rude and embarrassing behavior but Robin didn’t seem to understand this, and he continued to tug at Brienne like she was his personal property until she finally pulled her arm free.

 

“ _Yes_?” she snapped, all too aware that Dim Dalba was staring between the two of them, “Lord Arryn?”

 

“Where’s my guided tour? Why aren’t the savages waiting to greet me?” he demanded and Brienne was actually quite shocked that he was brave enough to even speak whilst under the watchful eye of one of the “savages”.

 

It didn’t stop her going red with embarrassment though and she hoped that Dim Dalba or anyone else in the immediate vicinity didn’t understand what the word “savage” meant. Judging by the look of indignation on Dim Dalba’s face he knew all too well what the term “savage” meant and his eyes narrowed all the way down to slits as he glared at Robin.  

 

“Savages?! Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to lad?!” he growled as he advanced towards Lord Arryn and Brienne almost had to throw herself in the middle of them.

 

“Please, I’m sorry he doesn’t really understand the Free Folk way of life,” Brienne begged as Robin cowered behind her once again, “I promise I’ll make sure he doesn’t say anything to anyone or do anything to cause offense.”

 

“Fine,” Dim Dalba grunted and Brienne breathed an audible sigh of relief, “We’ll do your guided tour Lord Bird.”

 

Then he simply turned around and left Brienne and Robin to hurry through the snow after him; Robin letting out another shriek of fear when they rounded the corner and finally entered the Free Folk encampment. It was nowhere near as packed as the last time Brienne was here but there were still hundreds of people milling about, groups of large tents erected around camp fires and a general lively buzz about the place. As they continued down the well-worn path between the rows of tents Brienne couldn’t help but notice that most of the Free Folk disappeared out of sight once they spotted Robin. Dozens of pairs of eyes watched them before slinking back into tents and children were quickly rounded up by their mothers, vanishing from view. Dim Dalba must have noticed the hurt look on her face because he stopped midway on his march and slapped her genially on the arm.

 

“Ain’t you Lady Crow,” he explained as Brienne hastily rubbed the spot on her arm he’d hit, “We ‘preciate how you ‘elped us last time. It’s the lad they don’t like. Free Folk can smell weakness and that boy stinks of it.”

 

More than half the camp had already disappeared inside their tents and even more slipped out of sight when Lord Arryn pushed in front and stomped through their campsite; shrieking and pointing at them like the Free Folk were some sort spectacle to be gawked at. Brienne hissed at him to stop but the boy took no notice of her, nor was he careful where he put his feet and Robin blundered through tent lines, fires and dragged dirty footprints through the pristine campsite. A giant of a man with wild black hair and very few front teeth scowled at them for a moment or two before slinking back inside his tent as they walked past. Some of the Free Folk merely stared at them and seemed to have come to the understanding that Lord Arryn was merely ignorant and stupid, rather than being an outright threat to them or their children. To be frank; even one of the very small children could probably have fought Robin off if he stupidly decided to attack one of them.

 

“Tent,” Dim Dalba grunted as he played his part as their “tour guide” and pointed out a one of the huge animal skinned tents, “Pot, kettle, woman, axe…”

 

This went on for some time and Brienne couldn’t help but smile as the elder continued to point out increasingly random objects much to the frustration of Robin. The boy appeared to be laboring under the false impression that the Free Folk camp would be full of “savages” eating each other’s body parts or running about in a completely uncivilized manner. In reality, most people were mostly doing chore work or preparing meat for cooking later and not engaging in barbaric savagery. Brienne actually quite liked the stillness of the camp and it was nice walking amongst the people; she could have happily spent hours out in the fresh air with the Free Folk. Or she would have done if it hadn’t been for Lord Arryn whining every five minutes. It was becoming increasingly clear that Robin had barely left the Eyrie and on the rare occasion that he had, he was ferried about from castle to castle and rarely come into contact with a group of people larger than about ten. Brienne might have felt sorry for Robin being so sheltered if he wasn’t so annoying and unable to follow even the simplest of instructions. 

 

“No,” Dim Dalba said firmly as Robin made to break away from Brienne and go and look at the larger tents that were just ahead and to the left of them, “Not that way Lord Bird.” 

 

The Free Folk were giving this particular group of tents a wide birth, you could practically have heard a pin drop it was so quiet, and Brienne got the distinct impression that people were staying well out of the way for a reason. It was only when they carried on walking past that she spotted the familiar animal skinned tent that belonged to Tormund and his daughters just in the distance. A funny feeling came over as they got closer and closer; it felt intrusive to be traipsing through the camp with Lord Arryn whilst Tormund was fast asleep and had no knowledge of them even being here. What if he was angry when he found out? Brienne certainly wouldn’t want someone like Robin Arryn barging into her house without any say in the matter and once again she wished that she’d come here alone on her first visit back. Even if Tormund did wake up and refrained from cracking Robin’s head open like an egg, how was Brienne supposed to have a proper conversation with him? Robin, unfortunately, was sticking to her like glue and it didn’t seem like Brienne was going to get away from him anytime in the near future. In Lord Arryn’s head bigger obviously meant better and he wouldn’t give up his pursuit to see the person in charge, no matter how many times Brienne tried to explain that this wasn’t the way things worked in the Free Folk camp. The bigger the tent the more people it had to fit inside it; it had nothing to do with status.

 

“We’ll not be going down there. Chief ‘n some of the men been out four days straight with no sleep and no food,” Dim Dalba said before Robin could march off towards the bigger tents, “If you wake one of ‘em up they’ll cut your ears off ‘n boil ‘em in a pan.”

 

“I’m supposed to meet whichever one of you is in charge,” he whined as Dim Dalba was in the middle of showing them a set of hand carved cutlery, “ _I’m a Lord_!”

 

Brienne could tell by the expression on Dim Dalba’s face that if a Free Folk child had spoken to him like that then they’d get a swift clip round the ear.

 

“ _Fine_ ,” Dim Dalba snapped as he grabbed Robin by the elbow and marched off in the direction of Tormund’s tent; Brienne following close behind, “Then _you_ can be the one to wake the chief up for this grand tour of yours and we’ll all stand here and watch when he cuts your head off.”

 

Then he shoved Robin towards the entrance of Tormund’s tent and Brienne reluctantly placed her hand on the hilt her sword just to be on the safe side; it was unlikely that Tormund would be best pleased with being woken up just so that the Lord of the Vale could have the opportunity to stare at him. Robin already looked as though he was regretting his insistence on speaking to the Chief and he abruptly started shaking violently as he was pushed closer to the tent. It looked as though he was having some sort of fit or something and Brienne really didn’t know what to do other than watch with Dim Dalba who was shaking his head in disgust. Perhaps it would be a good lesson for the boy if Tormund did come charging out with his axe but as much as Brienne disliked Robin, she didn’t want him to wind up dead on her watch; not when she knew what the repercussions would be for Tormund. Little Finger would have his head on spike quicker than breathing and the rest of the Free Folk would likely end up trampled underneath the Knights of the Vale’s horses. On a more selfish aspect, Brienne didn’t want the next time she saw Tormund be when she was looming over him whilst he tried to sleep with an irritating, sickly boy standing next to her. Brienne had envisioned something a bit more relaxed when she’d been thinking about what her first proper conversation with Tormund was going to be. 

 

“Please!” Lord Arryn wailed and Brienne prayed he wasn’t about to start crying, “Please don’t let the bad man eat me!”

 

“Maybe he will maybe he won’t” Dim Dalba growled as he pushed Robin even closer towards then tent, “We’ll jus ‘ave to wait and see!”

 

Robin quivered and shook but nothing happened, the tent flap didn’t even so much as twitch, and Brienne relaxed a little as she removed her hand from her sword; Tormund must either be a heavy sleeper or simply exhausted from his four days out in the wilderness.

 

“I didn’t think so,” Dim Dalba said as he forced Robin away from Tormund’s tent and back the way they’d came, “Move along now Lord Bird.”

 

He led them straight through the camp without stopping and all the way the very edge where only a few tents were positioned near the tree line that led out into the dense forest. For Brienne, it was actually a nice leisurely stroll and the clean, crisp air felt good; clearing out her lungs when she breathed. A band of would-be warrior children had decided to follow them and Brienne was greatly amused by their boldness as they ran along beside them. That was until one of them threw a rock dangerously close to Robin’s head and he let out another loud shriek of fright.

 

“Hey!” Dim Dalba growled at them but he didn’t sound all that angry, just mildly annoyed, “Leave Lord Bird alone. ‘es having his grand tour. Now off with you or I’ll have the chief deal with you later!”

 

The children scattered, laughing and cawing like birds as they sped off out of sight; leaving Brienne to deal with a terrified Lord Arryn. It was only a small stone and Brienne had witnessed many a bloody nose back in Tarth when the boys got a little bit too rough with each other. Robin had been mollycoddled to the point of no return and Brienne couldn’t help but think of Lyanna Mormont and how she would have whipped the floor with Lord Arryn if it came down to duel. 

 

“These are _bad_ people and I don’t want them here!” he whispered but Brienne didn’t even have the energy to feel bad at how scared he sounded. 

 

“Well, that’s not up to you,” Brienne muttered as they walked further to the edge of the camp, “Jon Snow is King in the North.”

 

“’Owd you get stuck with this one?” Dim Dalba asked as he led them all the way to the edge of the camp, where an elderly woman was hunched over a large animal skin that had been stretched out over a piece of wood. The snow had mostly worn away up here and all that was left was a thin coating on the ground making it far easier to navigate then the the walk up here.

 

“Don’t ask,” Brienne replied grumpily as she resigned herself to being nothing more than a glorified babysitter for the remainder of the day.

 

Whilst Robin was almost hyperventilating at the effort it took him to walk up here Brienne watched, fascinated, as the ancient looking woman nimbly wove two large pelts together to make some kind of hood. Three of her fingers were missing on one hand and her left eye was missing with only a huge hole where her socket was and a thick scar ran from her eyebrow to her hairline. The loss of her eye didn't seem to impact her sewing skills and her remaining fingers flew over the animal furs like she had ten eyes, let alone one.

 

“That’s Brynhild,” Dim Dalba said as he noticed where Brienne was looking, “Best fucking fighter we’ve seen in a long time. Lost half her fucking fingers to the Thenns and an eye to the Crows but she’s been up and over the Wall more times than I can count. She’d fucking do me in that's for sure!”

 

“What’s she making?” Brienne asked as Brynhild started arranging the thick animal pelts into some sort of shape. 

 

“It’s for the Dragon Woman,” Dim Dalba explained as he came to stand beside her, “We don’t have fancy shit like gold or castles to give away like you Southerners do, but if you’ve done right by us or we like you then Brynhild ‘ere will make you a right proper coat worthy of the Free Folk; ain’t no higher honour than that.” 

 

“It’s _beautiful_ ,” Brienne whispered as the ancient looking woman brushed out a absolutely _stunning_ reindeer pelt that made up the basis of the coat. 

 

The coat must be a thank you for firstly saving Tormund and the rest of Jon Snow’s compadres after their wight hunt turned sour and for becoming an allied with them in the great war to come. Brienne had yet to see what the woman looked like but had heard tales of how beautiful she was, with shining silver hair and huge dark blue eyes; the Dragon Queen would look _stunning_ in a coat such as this she thought wistfully. Whilst there was no way that Brienne would be caught _dead_ in a dress, she didn’t exactly enjoy being mistaken for a man all the time just because she happened to be wearing a pair of trousers and had short hair. At the age of fifteen, she had chopped her ridiculous waist length hair off with a pair of blunt scissors she had stolen from the kitchen. Septa Roelle had almost wept when she’d found the masses of blonde hair that Brienne had stuffed underneath her mattress but, surprisingly, her father had agreed that the short hair suited his daughter.

 

“You look like your mother,” Selwyn Tarth had said as he’d taken Brienne’s head in his hands, “Such a beauty.”

 

Nobody else had been a fan of her short hair and the rest of the young ladies had mocked her relentlessly but Brienne had persevered; even when they laughed in her face when she’d started wearing tunics instead of dresses. Still, it didn’t stop her from staring wistfully at the coat as Brynhild’s fingers weaved this way and that with a huge bone needle and a thick leather thread. Brienne was about to ask Dim Dalba if it was possible for him to introduce her to Brynhild when a teenage girl sporting a black eye, and holding a chunk of what looked like human hair, ran up to the elder and started hissing and cursing in Old Tongue; waving the clump of hair in her fist around as she spoke. Behind her, another girl, who was identical right down to the very last freckle, and missing a large patch of hair was being held back by two men and shouting obscenities. 

 

“I’ll leave you to it, Lady Crow,” Dim Dalba sighed, “I’ll ‘ave to sort this lot out before we have an ear missing like last time.”

 

He then pulled the irate girl away and headed off back into the main camp; leaving Brienne and Robin watching the group of small children who were playing near the tree line. The smallest one was very good, darting this way and that quicker than the eye could see as small hands scooped up a tiny white rabbit with long floppy ears. It wasn't until a mass of red hair spilled out of the child’s hood that Brienne realized with a smile who it was; it was Hala. Brienne waved at her and couldn’t help but be more than a little pleased when the girl ran straight over to her at top speed; the rabbit tucked in tight against her chest. The supposed Lord of the Vale took an uncertain step behind Brienne as the little Free Folk girl approached them but she ignored him in favor of crouching down next to Hala. Her sister wasn’t there for her to hide behind this time, but Hala seemed to be a bit more confident around Brienne and she smiled shyly up at her.

 

 “Good morning Hala,” Brienne said brightly as Robin hovered awkwardly behind her, “Remember me?”

 

Hala nodded, her smile widening, and she was very excited to show Brienne the rabbit she was holding; her little hand taking hold of Brienne’s big one as she guided it towards the creature. The rabbit seemed quite content and it’s pink nose twitched in the cold air as Brienne rubbed her fingers gently across its soft fur. Whilst Hala was directing Brienne in how to stroke the rabbit properly, a few of the other children wandered over as well; whispering to each other in the Old Tongue language. One of them pointed at Robin, who was still hovering behind Brienne, and muttered something which caused the rest of them to collapse into giggles. Lord Arryn didn’t seem to understand that he was being laughed at and instead he moved closer towards the other children which only made them scatter back towards the tree line. Brienne glanced back at him but the Lord of the Vale simply looked confused as to why nobody was bowing and scraping towards him like they normally did.

 

“I watched you playing earlier,” Brienne said as she turned back to Hala who carefully took the rabbit back, “You’re _very_ good.”

 

The girl flushed crimson at the praise but she still refused to speak and Brienne tried not to take it to heart too much. Solfrid had said that her sister spoke only to herself and Tormund; something that was unlikely to change for the time being. Still, it didn’t stop Brienne from worrying about her and she made a mental note to speak to Maester Wolkan when she returned to Winterfell. 

 

“Did Solfrid not come and play with you?” Brienne asked and Hala shook her head; her thick braids swishing back and forth and she pointed in the direction of the camp.

 

“Is Solfrid with your father?” Brienne asked aware that Robin was beginning to grow impatient behind her, “Back at your tent?”

 

Hala nodded again and she seemed happy enough but Brienne decided that she would keep an eye on the girl just in case; perhaps she could escort her back to Tormund when she had finished playing? That seemed unlikely though considering she was surrounded by her own kind and many of the children were allowed to roam around as they pleased; there was always someone with a watchful eye out. Speaking of which, Brynhild had stopped darning the furs for Daenerys Targaryen’s coat and was instead watching them intently with her one good eye. Behind her, Robin let out a loud gasp and Brienne could only assume that he had spotted the gaping hole where her other eye used to be. Brienne smiled awkwardly at her whilst Hala resumed petting the rabbit but the ancient old warrior merely nodded curtly at her. It appeared that Hala wasn’t the one that needed keeping an eye on and Brynhild’s gaze became fixed on Robin and it didn’t look that she liked what she saw. She should have put her foot down and told Little Finger that it would be a mistake to bring Robin here and Brienne’s heart sunk a little because Hala was starting to edge away from her; her big green eyes fixed on Lord Arryn. 

 

“Why doesn't it speak?” Robin asked as he stomped over to them, “Did one of the other savages eat its tongue?”

 

_It?!_  

 

“Her name is _Hala_ Lord Arryn,” Brienne snapped as she fixed him with an icy stare, “And she only speaks to special people; don't you Hala?”

 

Hala nodded mutely before quickly setting the rabbit down and chasing after it once it sped off; the other children following close behind her. Her hood had fallen down to reveal two very wonky looking plaits and clearly, Tormund’s hair dressing skills weren't getting any better. 

 

“You shouldn’t call people “ _it_ ” Lord Arryn and especially not the Free Folk’s chiefs daughter!” Brienne scolded but the boy wasn’t listening to her and was instead watching Hala and her friends resume their catching game.

 

“Can I go and play with them?” he begged as he almost jumped up and down like a small child and not a boy of thirteen, “Can I? _Can I_?”

 

Brienne frowned as she looked over at the rest of the free folk children and it looked like the oldest was probably around the same age as Solfrid whilst Robin was coming up for fourteen. He should be out learning how to command his men or perfecting his clearly lacking sword skills; _not_ playing with small children. The game was obviously designed with hunting in mind and Brienne doubted that Robin had ever even _held_ a rabbit let alone caught and skinned one. Her answer should probably have been no but Brienne didn’t think she could stomach a whole day with the boy and in the end, she relented. Maybe spending time with the Free Folk children would give him a better understanding of the Free Folk culture; much like it had done with Brienne. 

 

“Ok but-” Robin ignored her and ran towards the group of children who all stopped playing abruptly when he reached them and two of them even darted off back to their tent. 

 

Hala was looking over at her and Brienne gave her what she hoped was an encouraging look and was relieved when the little girl began the game again. The other children quickly followed suit but they seemed to have decided to simply ignore Robin rather than let him actually join in. After watching them for a few minutes Brienne rose to her feet and was awkwardly wondering what to do with herself when Dim Dalba suddenly reappeared, holding out a steaming mug of nettle tea for her. 

 

“What’s ‘e doing playing a kiddies game?” he grumbled as he handed Brienne the mug, “You make ‘em right funny in the South Lady Crow.”

 

Unfortunately, Brienne couldn’t even argue with this because, at that very moment, Robin lost his footing and fell to the ground whilst the other children darted past him. Next to her Dim Dalba let out a snort of laughter as Hala neatly skipped over Robin and led the chase for the rabbit once more. 

 

“I’m sorry,” Brienne told him, “I shouldn’t have brought him up here.”

 

“Don’t fret Lady Crow I know you was just doing as you was told,” Dim Dalba said as he clapped her heartily on the back and started leading her away from the playing children, “Tormund knows that we’ll have to put up with Lords and Ladies gawping at us but that's a price we're willing to pay if it means keeping the kiddies safe.”

 

That still didn’t make Brienne feel any better but she followed him to a row of tents that had a large fire built outside them and a couple of comfortable looking logs to sit on.

 

“You rest up ‘ere Lady Crow,” Dim Dalba said as all but pushed her onto one of the logs, “Stay till supper and then the boy can ‘ave his bastard tour when Tormund wakes up. That’ll be a right fucking laugh I can tell ya!”

 

Brienne settled herself down on the log and sipped her tea was very grateful when the warmth spread through her entire body. Her hands were feeling like they were about to fall off from the cold and she found herself cursing Lords Arryn even more for being late; she could easily have gone back for her gloves if it hadn’t been for him!

 

“What the fucks wrong with ‘im anyway?” Dim Dalba queried as they watched Robin cry out in fear when the rabbit hopped over his foot, “Free Folk lads that age would have been out to war or been up and over the Wall.”

 

“I’m guessing a lot,” Brienne muttered as Hala darted through Robin’s legs and easily picked up the rabbit and stroked its soft fur once more.

 

“I hope the little’n doesn’t get too attached,” Dim Dalba said mildly as Hala petted the rabbits' ears, “That rabbits for the pot later.”

 

And with that he strode off back down into the camp, leaving Brienne looking slightly horrified as Hala cuddled the rabbit some more before letting it loose again. Robin appeared to be just as awful at the game as Brienne feared and she winced as he went crashing to the floor once more; most of the children giggling at him. Not wanting to watch any more Brienne took a sip of her lovely hot tea and thought a bit more about what she would say to Tormund once he woke up; most of the conversations she'd thought up were now pointless due to Robin Arryn being with her. Now all she could think of was varying ways of apologising to Tormund for inflicting the boy on him and his people for the day. It wasn't  _exactly_ the way she wanted to start things off with the leader of the Free Folk as Brienne had been hoping to hear more about Tormund's first climb over the wall or what living in the frozen North was really like. She was deep in thought of how to rectify her current conversation when a deep, and annoyingly familiar, voice called out behind her.

 

“Well, well well If it isn’t Lady Brienne of fucking Tarth,” Brienne turned around to find Sandor Clegane emerging from one of the tents; his long legs striding over as he sat himself down on a log next to her, “What brings you all the way up here?”

 

Brienne scowled at the Hound as he trampled snow all over the bottom of her nice clean cloak; Sandor Clegane was the _last_ person she wanted to see right now. After casting a quick look over at Robin, who was still trying and failing to play with the Free Folk children, Brienne scooted a little further away from Clegane as he eyed her with what could only be classed as amusement. 

 

“Clegane,” she grumbled as the Hound stretched his legs out in front of him, “What are _you_ doing here?”

 

“ _I_ was invited,” Clegane smirked as Brienne glared at him again, “And _I_ asked first.”

 

At least Robin Arryn turned out to be good for something and Brienne had a valid reason for being in the Free Folk camp; she'd die of embarrassment if she'd had to admit to the Hound why she was really here. Whatever it was, if it was even anything, that had stirred her interest in Tormund then Brienne would rather keep it private for the time being. She didn't need someone like Clegane shouting his mouth off and teasing her about something that potentially hadn't even happened yet.

 

“ _I_ am here on an errand for Lord Baelish,” Brienne replied loftily as the Hound gave out a great snort of laughter, “An errand that _you_ so graciously declined thank you very much!”

 

Clegane snorted once more and laughed rudely when Robin tripped over once again; the boy really was very useless. The other children kept edging further and further away from him but the Lord of the Vale didn’t seem to be taking the hint and continued to mess up their game as they played. 

 

“So they’ve got you baby sitting that little shit,” the Hound said as he poked the fire with the toe of his boot, “I thought a fancy knight such as yourself would have found a more worthy cause.”

 

“I’m _not_ a Knight!” Brienne huffed for what felt like the millionth time, “Besides; maybe if Lord Arryn learns a little a bit more about the Free Folk then-”

 

“Oh so it’s _Free Folk_ now is it?” Clegane interrupted and his grin widened as the colour rose to Brienne’s cheeks, “Not the savage Wildlings that have come to eat your babies, burn your village down and fuck your goats?” 

 

“I never thought that,” Brienne muttered mulishly as the Hound rolled his eyes at her, “Especially not the goat bit.”

 

“Yeah you did,” the Hound snorted, continuing before Brienne could correct him, “Everyone did, but they’re not a bad lot. Bunch of mad fuckers mind.”

 

Brienne chose to ignore him in favour of watching Hala run circles around Robin in her quest to get to the rabbit first. The little creature seemed surprisingly unbothered about being chased about by a horde of small children but that was perhaps because the Free Folk children moved swiftly and silently. Lord Arryn, on the other hand, blundered about through the snow like a rampaging wild boar and appeared far less in control of his own feet than the rest of them. Sighing heavily Brienne turned back to her tea whilst the Hound chewed loudly on what Brienne recognised as the whale meat she’d eaten before. 

 

“So where’s your at boyfriend then?” Clegane asked through a mouthful of food, “He’s normally hanging around you like a lost puppy.”

 

Great; she’d barely sat down and already the Hound was already ruining her nice day out by making jokes about herself and Tormund! Besides, Tormund never hung around her like a "lost puppy"; he had always appeared _very_ confident in making his intentions clear when it came to Brienne. However, just because Brienne was finding herself a _little_ bit more interested in the Free Folk than she was before that didn't mean she was just going to sit here and be made fun of. The Hound would just to find somebody _else_ to pick on for a change because Brienne wasn’t having any of it!

 

“For the last time, Tormund is _not_ my boyfriend!” Brienne snapped as she spun around on her log and glared angrily over at the Hound; her embarrassment rising slightly at the thought of being talked about in an _intimate_ way with someone she had barely spoken to. 

 

Then she returned to her tea and continued to pretend that she was sitting here _alone_ and without the Hound's irritating presence even as he stared at her for a beat or two before bursting out in loud, guffawing laughter. In fact, Clegane laughed so loudly that he almost choked on the meat he'd been eating and hunched forward; coughing and spluttering whilst Brienne debated if she should leave him to his fate once again or help. He was making so much noise and turning rather purple, that even Brynhild looked up from the fur's she was stitching and stared over at him and in the end Brienne banged him on the back rather reluctantly. A stray piece of whale meat flew out and bounced off her boot and if that wasn't bad enough, Brienne then had to sit there for a full minute and wait for the Hound to stop laughing to find out what joke she was the brunt of this time. 

 

“I meant that soft-headed lad that you keep hanging around!” he snorted and Brienne felt her face flush almost instantly as she realised he had meant Pod and _not_ Tormund, “All though it’s funny how you instantly went-”

 

“Oh shut up!” she snapped as the Hound continued to howl with laughter; all most falling off his log in the process. 

 

Brienne refused to speak to him after that and pretended not to notice when Clegane tried to engage her in conversation; even when he told her that Tormund was “alright” for a “crazy ginger twat.” The Hound didn't seem to be able to take the hint though and continued to sing Tormund's praises, like when he'd kicked Clegane in the back to make him get on "that fucking dragon that was breathing fucking fire" or when Tormund had let him stay with the Free Folk because he didn't want to sit around with a bunch of "cunt Lords and ladies" up at Winterfell. He carried on in this vein for some and Brienne was getting annoyed at herself for continuing to listen to him. It was this type of stuff that would she would rather hear from Tormund himself it was annoying her even more that everyone  _else_ seemed to know this stuff except her! Perhaps if you hadn't been rude the first time he tried to speak to you, a grumpy voice inside her head said, then you might have already known all these stories. 

“I hope they don’t stay holed up inside their tents all afternoon,” Brienne said, forgetting for a moment that she wasn’t currently speaking to the Hound as she watched a couple of young Free Folk girls stoke their fire quickly before sneaking back inside their tents.

 

“People don’t like being stared at,” the Hound muttered but Brienne couldn't help but notice that he automatically moved his hair to cover the left side of his face, “Or gawked at by little cunts who ought to know better.”

 

Brienne watched him out of the corner of her eye as the Hound continued to try and push his hair over to one side to cover up all the horrific scarring; the missing piece of his ear poking through his straggly brown hair. It was now or never and Brienne took a deep breath as she turned to face Clegane properly; setting her tea down on the floor.

 

“I’m sorry for punching you _and_ hitting you in the head with a rock,” Brienne said awkwardly as Clegane stared at her, “ _And_ shoving you off that cliff. I was only trying to protect Arya and what I’m trying to say, _very inarticulacy_ , is that well… I’m glad you’re not dead.”

 

“Me too,” the Hound grunted and Brienne felt some of the tension she’d been carrying around these past few day lessen somewhat, “Turns out she doesn’t need much protecting anymore.”

 

“No,” Brienne agreed readily, “No she does not.”

 

They sat in a comfortable silence after that and Brienne reached for her tea and had barely taken a mouthful the stuff before Clegane tried to steer the conversation back to his new friend once more.

 

“So, Tormund-”

 

She barely had the chance to swallow her tea and tell him to shut up when a loud voice shouted out her name in excitement.

 

“BRIENNE-OF-TARTH!”

 

Brienne looked up to see running towards her through the camp at lightning speed was Solfrid; easily identifiable by her claiming red hair that was flying out behind her. She had the same lopsided braids as her sister, most of which had come undone as she darted between the rows of tents towards them. Her little face was lit up with excitement and Brienne couldn’t help but smile back at Solfrid whilst the Hound looked at her in amusement. 

 

“Hello Mr. Dog,” Solfrid said brightly, waving her little hand at the Hound before making a beeline for Brienne and throwing herself towards her; knocking half of Brienne’s tea over in the process.

 

“Another ginger,” Clegane grunted as Solfrid finally released Brienne from her rather enthusiastic hug and hopped from foot to foot with excitement.

 

“Dim Dalba _said_ you’d come back to see us!” the little girl said as she jumped up and down and proceeded to talk a mile a minute, “Daddy’s going to be so sad he missed you because he had to go to bed but he’ll be up later and you can have supper with me, Hala _and_ daddy, Mr. Dog can come too and…”

 

“I bet he is,” Clegane muttered and Brienne shot him a nasty look as Solfrid continued to chatter away without seemingly needing to draw breath.

 

“… Daddy can tell you all about when he rode the dragon with King Crow and Mr. Dog, that's mine and Hala’s favourite story now but the one with the ice bears is still good or you could tell us about the bear and the tin the soldiers or…”

 

“How do you know this one?” Clegane asked as he nodded at Solfrid who had finally seemed to run out steam and had paused to take a breath.

 

“Brienne-of-Tarth is our friend!” Solfrid burst out before Brienne could answer, “Me and Hala have decided that she’s our bestest grown up friend, apart from daddy but he doesn’t really count because he’s daddy and he’s the best at everything!”

 

Brienne’s cheeks went a little pink; she’d never really been any bodies best anything that didn't have to do with fighting or her sword skills.

 

“You don’t have to call me Brienne-of-Tarth,” Brienne explained as Solfrid continued to bounce about, “Just Brienne will do.”

 

“Brienne is our friend,” Solfrid repeated to the Hound after a beat and then continued on, “She stayed in daddies bed last time she came and we taught her all about the Free Folk and she told us stories like when she hit you in the head with a rock.”

 

Clegane’s face split into a wide grin whilst Brienne went brick red with embarrassment; Solfrid had forgotten to mention that Tormund hadn’t _actually_ been in the bed with her when she’d stayed over. 

 

“Did she now,” he said as he continued to grin evilly at Brienne, “That’s funny, I don’t seem to remember _you_ mentioning that Lady Brienne. I thought you said you’d brought your own tent?”

 

“Shut up,” Brienne snapped as she felt her cheeks flush once more.

 

“She did but it wasn’t very good because Southerners don’t know how to make tents properly,” Solfrid interrupted again excitedly, “Ours is much better isn’t it Brienne?”

 

“Yes,” Brienne muttered as she tried to regain her composure, “ _Much_ better.”

 

Solfrid was off again; explaining how the Free Folk tents were far superior than anything the Southern Folk had to offer and that the stone tents they all lived in were cold and smelly. Brienne let her talk because that meant she wouldn’t accidentally embarrass Brienne again _or_ reveal that she had been nearly naked when she'd spent the night in Tormund’s bed as well. 

 

“I bet Tormund’s bed was much better too,” the Hound whispered so only Brienne could hear him and she felt her cheeks go pink again, mostly because he was right; Tormund’s soft warm bed _was_ much better than her own.

 

It was strange to her that Tormund hadn’t told the Hound about the night Brienne spent in his camp; from her experience men loved to brag about that type of thing but it appeared that Tormund had never said a word. For that she was very grateful and it wasn't Solfrid’s fault she’d accidentally outed Brienne, she was only six after all. 

 

“Come on then girl,” Clegane said to Solfrid who was still jumping about and appeared to have enough energy for twenty children let alone one, “What else did Lady Brienne of Tarth get up to when she stayed with you?”

 

“Did your father and the rest of them men come across anything exciting when they went out?” Brienne cut in before Solfrid could tell the Hound any more about her visit. 

 

“No, just more snow. _But_ daddy killed a reindeer for the Dragon Ladies special coat!” Solfrid explained and she pointed over to where Brynhild was busily hunched over a needle and thread, “Daddy said it’s going to be a magic coat and only the most fiercest warriors could wear. I said daddy should keep it but he laughed and said that it's much nicer to give a gift to someone than to keep it for yourself.”

 

The Hound snorted and rolled his eyes whilst Brienne thought that was a rather nice sentiment to instill in one's children. Perhaps if someone had taught Joffrey or Robin Arryn that then they wouldn’t have been set to grow up into such horrid individuals. 

 

“Hala got really scared without daddy but I told her _I’d_ protect her,” Solfrid told them proudly, “Dim Dalba would as well, even though he’s all grey now and daddy doesn’t like it when he goes on the long walks with them. Daddy says Dim Dalba’s done his fair share of hunting and fighting _and_ he has creaky knees but I don’t know what that means.”

 

“It means he’s getting old just like the rest of us,” the Hound grunted, “Hunting is a young man’s game now.”

 

“Or woman’s,” Brienne interjected as she looked over at him only for Clegane to roll his eyes at her at him, “I see _you_ didn’t offer to go hunting with them.”

 

“I had important business elsewhere,” Clegane grunted but Brienne could sense he seemed a little embarrassed.

 

“Daddy said you couldn’t go because you breathed too loudly and everyone could hear you coming from miles away,” Solfrid explained much to Clegane’s chagrin whilst Brienne let out a great snort of laughter, “He said some other words as well but they’re the bad words that Hala and I aren’t allowed to say until we're older.”

 

“You were saying?” Brienne asked, smirking at the Hound as he glowered at the pair of them.

 

It was at this point that Brienne realised just _how_ cold her hands had gotten and she stuffed them underneath her armpits to warm them up. unfortunately that didn't seem to do much and instead she cupped her hands and blew hot air on them to try and stop her fingers from falling off. Solfrid had been watching her curiously throughout and grabbed hold of Brienne’s hands when she realised what the problem was.

 

“Brienne your hands are all cold!” Solfrid exclaimed as she rubbed her little hands over Brienne’s to try and warm them up, “You need gloves!”

 

Then Solfrid was pulling Brienne to her feet and dragging her all the way back through the camp and she only just had time to yell out to the Hound to keep an eye on Robin. They went at a fast pace like all the Free Folk appeared to do and whilst Solfrid was used to picking her way through the many, many zig-zagging tent lines, Brienne was less sure of her footing and she almost stumbled over a few times. Nobody darted back into their tents when they saw her coming this time which was rather nice and Solfrid eventually slowed down so that Brienne wouldn’t fall flat on her face. 

 

“You can borrow daddies,” Solfrid said as they walked hand in hand through the sea of tents, “He’s sleepy from being away with the scouts so he won’t need them.”

 

It then dawned on Brienne that they were actually heading in the direction of Tormund’s tent and her face started to go red again; all her carefully thought out conversations starters and abruptly vanished from her mind. Solfrid was still tugging her along and Brienne felt her feet turn to jelly as they neared the entrance of the tent. 

 

“Oh well maybe-” Brienne stuttered as Solfrid started carefully undoing the thick bone hooks that held the tent entrance closed. 

 

“We have to be quiet because daddies sleeping,” Solfrid told her as she slipped inside and Brienne had no choice but to stumble into the tent after her. 

 

Brienne froze; Tormund was fast asleep; the furs pulled all the way up so that only the top of his bright red hair was visible. Oh dear, Brienne flustered to herself, as she stared at Tormund sleeping body and felt almost her entire body flush crimson. This seemed like far too intimate a setting for her to be in and she didn't quite know what to do with herself. There was still time for her to retreat back outside but Brienne tended to get a little clumsy when she was nervous, she could just see herself tripping over a guideline and bring the whole tent crashing down, so in the end she stayed put. Whilst Brienne had been debating where to stand without making an fool out of herself, Solfrid had climbed up onto the furs and pressed her little face close to her fathers cheek and whispered something in his ear. A sense of panic washed over her as she stood there awkwardly, unsure of what to do if Tormund woke up, but he merely mumbled something sleepily to his daughter and fell back to sleep again. Once she was certain he was actually asleep Brienne couldn't work out if she was relieved or disappointed by this fact and found herself creeping closer. She wouldn’t have even know Tormund was alive if hadn’t been for his gentle, deep breathing and Brienne did her best to remain silent so as not to wake him up again. Although if he did wake up at least she didn’t have Robin clinging onto her and screaming at the slightest of noises which would make for an actual conversation infinitely less difficult; she really disliked that boy. Solfrid gave her father a kiss on the cheek before climbing off and rooting around in the pockets of Tormund’s thick, heavy coat whilst Brienne hovered uncertainly in between them.

 

The rest of the tent was much the same as before although this time the little stick figure that the girls had made was hanging in pride of place above Tormund’s bed. Even though she had had relatively little to do with it, a huge smile crossed her lips as she looked at the Tarth House sigil glinting in the daylight. Aside from that Tormund’s fur skin trousers were neatly folded to one side, along with what looked like a pair of thick socks and his customary fur skinned boots. Looking at his discarded clothing the sudden thought that Tormund might be _naked_ underneath that fur quilt struck her and Brienne quickly averted her eyes to the floor; her face reddening once more. Whilst she wasn’t _completely_ naive to what a man looked like minus his clothing, those types of thoughts were usually restricted to when the person wasn’t in the _same_ room as her. It suddenly felt far too hot in the tent and Brienne was desperate to get outside for some air as she fanned her face wildly. A little hand suddenly tugged at her sleeve and Brienne couldn’t help but go red again as Solfrid handed her a pair of thick fur mittens and directed her quietly out of the tent. Brienne gave Tormund’s sleeping form one last look before Solfrid pulled the tent flap closed and fastened it securely. 

 

“You can keep those,” Solfrid said as she tucked her little hand back inside Brienne’s and led her back up the hill, “Daddy won’t mind.”

 

Brienne was beginning to wonder how she kept ending up with items of Tormund’s clothing as she pulled on the thick gloves; her hands warming instantly. They strolled leisure back through the camp and Solfrid pointed out various people, waving energetically at them as they passed, and continued to expand on her earlier insistence that the Free Folk camp was better than Winterfell and that Brienne really should come and visit more often. Brienne listened to the little girl with interest as she tried to remember names and faces but in the back of her mind she was a little worried about leaving Robin for such a long period of time. Whilst Clegane could be trusted to not let anything _too_ horrific happen to the boy, Brienne would rather get back to see to “Lord Bird” herself. They were almost back to the little row of tents when Brienne noticed that a Free Folk women had now joined their campfire and a knot of worry flipped over in her stomach. The woman’s olive coloured skin was flushed slightly from the cold and she had thick black hair that was braided into two very elaborate looking braids that went all the way to her waist. She was dressed in the traditional fur trousers and snow boots of the Free Folk but had removed her jacket and was wearing a simple cotton vest despite the frigid temperature.  

 

“FRIGGA!” Solfrid shouted as she let go of Brienne’s hand and bounded towards the woman and practically jumped on top of her, “Daddy said you’d be back today! He’ll be so excited to see you!”

 

The woman, Frigga, scooped the little girl up, tickling her mercilessly and Solfrid giggled loudly until she was set back down on her feet. As Brienne took her seat next to the Hound Frigga blatantly looked her up and down and something stirred deep within her gut as she watched Solfrid and Frigga nattering away in Old Tongue; she was _jealous_. It caught her completely off guard because she wasn’t even sure _why_ she was jealous, she just _was_ and there didn’t seem to be anything she could do to stop herself. Forcing her attention back to her job in hand, Brienne was relieved to find that Lord Arryn hadn’t come to any harm whilst she’d been away and was still desperately trying to keep up with the other Free Folk children. 

 

“You missed the little shit falling over a stick,” Clegane grumbled as he nodded over at Robin who was bright red in the face and out of breath whilst the Free Folk children ran circles around him.

 

Robin wasn’t dead which was more than Brienne was expecting to be honest but it was probably for the best that they returned to Winterfell sooner rather than later. That would mean that she would miss speaking to Tormund but she supposed, technically, she had _seen_ him even if he was fast asleep at the time and had a nice afternoon with the girls. 

 

“Lord of the fucking Vale,” Sandor grunted and Brienne had the sudden urge to cover Solfrid’s ears up but the little girl just giggled.

 

“Who this?” Frigga asked Solfrid suspiciously in broken English as she nodded towards Brienne, “Why she in camp?”

 

“I’m Brienne of Tarth. I’m-”

 

“Oh!” You King Crow Spear-Wife!” Frigga interrupted as her face broke into a huge smile, “Tormund tells us you kill Big Dog with bare hands!”

 

The Hound let out a snort and muttered something vulgar under his breath as Brienne tried not to look too smug. Perhaps at some point, she should start correcting people that “Big Dog” wasn’t actually dead but it served the Hound right for teasing her earlier. 

 

“Nim have food for you,” Frigga was telling Solfrid whilst the Hound looked grumpily back at Brienne, and she nudged the little girl in the direction of a tent near by, “Go. Get some for sister too.”

 

Solfrid bounded away; her wonky braids flying out behind her and Brienne sat there nervously and waited to see if Frigga would make any further comment why she was in the camp. However, Frigga seemed more concerned with checking out the grizzled features of the Hound and Brienne went quietly back to her cup of nettle tea. 

 

“I’m going for a piss,” Clegane said as he stood up, “Make sure the little shit doesn’t break his neck whilst I’m gone.”

 

He’d barely stomped off before Frigga leaped into his vacated seat; her dark eyes almost boring into Brienne’s as she stared at her intently. 

 

“You fuck him?” she asked abruptly and Brienne almost choked on her tea.

 

“ _No_!” Brienne said as her face turned bright red once more, “ _No I did not_!”

 

“Good,” Frigga said as she looked at the Hounds retreating back with interest, “He not built like those other Southern twats. Most men I see from Over-the-Wall look like girls with no beards and stupid short hair.”

 

For some reason, Frigga seemed quite put out that the men from “Over-the-Wall” had shorter hair styles then the Free Folk men but Brienne couldn’t for the life of her figure out why. 

 

“Why is having short hair stupid?” she asked curiously; Brienne had always been rather partial to a clean haircut on a man but she was starting to come around to the wilder look the Free Folk men were sporting. 

 

“For when man eat pussy,” Frigga said as if this was obvious and Brienne actually spat her tea out this time, “Man like it when you grab his hair if you don’t want him to stop. Dig nails in too. Can’t do that with short hair. Beard feel good too when it rubs between your legs.”

 

She then gave Brienne a rather crude demonstration just in case it wasn’t immediately obvious as to what she meant the first time around. It was little too much for Brienne to cope with, even if she was getting used to the Free Folk’s rather blunt way of speaking. She hadn’t even lost her maidenhead yet and it didn’t look like it was going anywhere anytime soon but Frigga didn’t seem to mind that Brienne was obviously embarrassed. Nor did she laugh at her like the other girls on Tarth had done when she was a teenager once they found out that Brienne had never even _kissed_ a boy. Suffering through her Septa’s sewing classes whilst the pretty maidens of Tarth had giggled at her behind her back had become almost a weekly torture, and they made a great game of trying to find a boy that would be willing to offer a kiss to “Brienne the Beauty.” It hadn’t gotten any better once she had started sword training with the actual boys and they’d continued the girls game by daring each other to see how far they could lead her on before Brienne realised it was nothing more than a spiteful trick. She still wasn’t one hundred percent sure that this wasn’t what was going to happen with Tormund; she’d been burned so many times before.

 

“You do that to him?” Frigga asked as she tugged on her own ear to indicate the chunk that was missing from Clegane’s.

 

“Yes!” Solfrid burst in as she came running back up to them and started bouncing up and down, “ _And_ she punched him _and_ hit him in the head with a rock!”

 

They were then treated to Solfrid’s re-enactment of Brienne’s battle with the Hound, which Brienne had to admit was pretty accurate; even the ending where the little girl dramatically threw herself on the ground and pretended to be dead. Frigga gave her a round of applause and Brienne couldn’t help but join in as Solfrid jumped to her feet and gave them a lopsided bow. She then handed Brienne some kind of biscuit from her pocket and told her that one of the Free Folk women, Nim, had made them especially for her. Solfrid then pointed over to a young woman who was half hiding behind her tent and watching them warily so Brienne smiled broadly at her and Nim gave her a short wave before disappearing inside her tent again. 

 

“You fierce like Free Folk women,” Frigga said as she smiled broadly at Brienne, “Not like those other Southern women who wait for man to save them. You strike first like snow leopard or great grizzly bear.”

 

“Oh… well… thank you,” Brienne said as she blushed with pride; it was an even greater rarity that a _woman_ should compliment her skills as a fighter. The closest she’d ever come was Olenna Tyrell who had called her “marvelous” when she had introduced herself before Joffrey’s wedding. It was sort of a compliment but Brienne was left feeling more like a spectacle that should be on display rather than just a regular person who happened to be good with a sword. 

 

“I told daddy that you were very brave to fight the Big Dog and rescue the King Crows sister and he agreed with me,” Solfrid said as she tried to push her wayward hair off her face, “He said you’re braver than all the Southern Folk put together.”

 

Brienne flushed crimson again as something unknown stirred into life deep inside her whilst Frigga pulled Solfrid towards her and cast a critical eye over the girl's messy hair. Not that it should _matter_ if Tormund thought she was brave or not but it felt… _nice_ that the little family had talked about her since the last time she was here.  

 

“Your daddy do your hair today Solly?” Frigga asked and the little girl nodded and nibbled on her biscuit, “Hmmm… next time you come to me. Not daddies fault he shit at hair.”

 

Brienne watched with interest as Frigga began to unleash Solfrid’s hair from the untidy braids that Tormund had created and set to work. Her fingers were quick and nimble and within five minutes she had Solfrid’s hair looking presentable in two neat braids that crisscrossed over the top of her head in an intricate pattern. 

 

“You have too much hair girl,” Frigga grumbled as it took her three attempts to secure the thick plaits with some twine, “Like daddy and mamma. Go on now, go play with sister.”

 

She shooed Solfrid away who ran off to where Hala and the other children were still trying to exclude Robin from their catch game. The boy didn’t seem to be taking the hint though and he kept running after them; sipping over in the slushy snow with almost every step he took. Brienne let out a heavy sight as Solfrid quickly darted between Robin’s legs and grabbed hold of the rabbit before he even had a chance to reach it; he really was useless.

 

“Who that?” Frigga asked as she stoked the fire in front of them with a stick, “Why he shit at child’s game?”

 

“That’s Robin Arryn, he’s Lord of the-”

 

“Lord?” Frigga snorted as she looked at Brienne in disbelief, “Free Folk always told Lords are boss men, like chief. That just little boy. Why you let little boy tell you what to do Brienne-of-Tarth?” 

 

“Well…” Brienne said as she struggled to explain how the feudal society of the Seven Kingdoms was based on a rigid social structure that divided the population between a hereditary nobility and the small-folk. Frigga didn’t seem all that interested and let out a derisive snort when Brienne told her about how certain houses are sworn to serve certain Lords and even defend them during wartimes.  

 

“You better fighter then little boy. I bet _Hala_ better fighter than little boy,” she said and Brienne couldn’t exactly disagree with her as they watched Lord Arryn fall over yet again.

 

“His daddy Lord also?” Frigga asked and she let out another loud snort when Brienne nodded, “You Southern Folk are strange; letting little boy tell you what to do just because his _daddy_ told you what to do.”

 

Brienne couldn’t really think of an argument to that because there were probably about a hundred other people she would have picked, that were far better suited to be Lord of the Vale than Robin Arryn.

 

“Tormund not like this,” Frigga muttered as she looked over at Robin who was trying to move around Hala to get to the rabbit, “Tormund not like this at all.”

 

“He’s not going to be angry is he?” Brienne asked as she shifted guiltily in her seat; she didn’t want to cause any upset and certainly not with Tormund.  

 

“He not like it when they look at us like that, like we dirt just because we don’t live in stone house,” Frigga told her, “He tells us to be proud to be Free Folk no matter what anybody say. We just want to live, just like everybody else.”

 

“And so you should be,” Brienne told her fiercely as she thought back to all the _stupid_ things Robin had said about the Free Folk, and all the things she herself had thought before she’d been given a chance to get to know them. 

 

“Tormund he a good man, he look after us now,” Frigga said as she began hanging an iron pot over the fire and filling it with snow, “He very kind, has good heart. Love those girls. He good daddy to them now wife is… how you say it?”

 

She looked like she was struggling to think of the word in common tongue and in the end, Frigga simply drew her finger across her neck in a killing motion. 

 

“Dead?” Brienne offered and Frigga nodded and added a few more sticks to the fire.

 

Brienne already knew this of course but she suddenly found that she wanted to know more about the woman that had first won Tormund’d heart and the mother of his two wonderful daughters. She wasn't even sure _why_ she wanted to know; it wasn't like Tormund’s wife was alive and breathing to compete with but still… 

 

“What was she like?” Brienne asked tenthly as she hoped that Frigga was in the mood for sharing, “Tormund’s wife?”

 

“Aslaug? She very sweet, like little Hala, but she fierce and kill many enemies but she still dead,” Frigga said with a sigh as she waited for the snow to melt, “White Walkers don’t care how strong you are. They still kill you.”

 

“So I’ve heard,” Brienne said as a shiver ran down her spine at what was waiting for them on the other side of that huge wall of ice.

 

“You fuck Tormund?” Frigga asked abruptly and Brienne felt her face burn scarlet at the woman’s bluntness, “You should. I would but he too sad about wife then we all almost die at Hardhome and he sad again so I fuck someone else. I think he like to fuck you.” 

 

She grinned and nudged Brienne in the ribs in a jovial manner but Brienne couldn’t stop her face from going even redder. It was one thing Tormund admiring her strength as a warrior but it was another thing all together knowing that he’d been thinking… _those_ kind of thoughts about her.

 

“Why you go red?” Frigga asked as her eyes narrowed in confusion, “Fucking good if man knows what he doing! Most men don’t care about girl but I often hear Aslaug making noises and sound like Tormund _very_ good at fucking.”

 

“Oh.. Well” Brienne stammered as the heat continued to rise in her cheeks, “That’s very…”

 

“You funny Brienne-of-Tarth,” Frigga laughed as she slapped Brienne on the back with enough force to knock over a small child, “I like you. Tormund like brother to me anyway so no fucking.”

 

“Thank you,” Brienne wheezed as she tried to get some air back in lungs, “But Tormund and I… we’re not…”

 

“I fuck his brother though,” Frigga said with a wistful smile as she ignored Brienne’s stammered protests, “Bjolf. He good fuck. Good warrior. But he dead now too.”

 

Brienne smiled sadly back at her; it seemed like everyone in the Free Folk was burdened with a tragic tale of death and destruction. Curiosity was getting the better of her again though and whilst it felt too much like prying to ask any more about Aslaug, Brienne couldn’t resist finding out more about the rest of Tormund’s family.

 

“What happened?” she asked as Frigga pulled out a knife and started peeling some potatoes for the pot.

 

Frigga let out a heavy sigh as she paused what she was doing and began chewing on her bottom lip for a moment or two. It appeared that she was weighing up whether or not to tell Brienne the story of Tormund’s brother and Brienne waited with baited breath before Frigga started speaking again.  

 

“Tormund youngest, small like Solfrid. Yasha, Mina and Gretta they his sisters, they look after him. Mother and father they already dead. Big Bear Crow see to that,” Frigga explained as Brienne leaned in and listened closely, “Crows came in night and they cut Bjolf’s head clean off while he sleep. Then they rape those girls, many men, many times. Gretta she only ten. Then everyone dead. Very sad.”

 

She suddenly looked as if she was about to cry and Brienne instinctively patted her hand; it was an awkward movement, mainly because Brienne wasn’t really good at stuff like this, but Frigga seemed to appreciate it all the same as she carried on with her story. 

 

“Dim Dalba go out looking but he not find Tormund until third day. He have arrow stuck in back and very cold from snow. We thought he die from Chill but Tormund tough and hard to kill like all good Free Folk.” Frigga said as she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and started smiling again, “Then Dim Dalba round up all the men and they go Crow hunting at night. Crows learn quick what happen when they cross the Free Folk. Only Big Bear Crow escape. Rest all dead; Dim Dalba cut all their cocks off and feed them to dogs.”

 

“That’s very sad,” Brienne said even though it was a complete understatement. Even though she already knew from Solfrid that Tormund’s family had been killed, or rather murdered, when he was young Brienne hadn’t expected to be quite this brutal, quite this tragic. He was probably in the tent with his sisters, Brienne realised sadly when the Nights Watch came rampaging through his camp.   

 

“Tormund not like to talk about his sisters so you not say I told you,” Frigga said fiercely as she pointed the knife at Brienne, “No talking!”

 

“I won’t I promise,” Brienne said solemnly; it wasn’t exactly the type of story you would bring up in casual conversation. 

 

Besides, it was also Tormund’s story to tell and if he wanted to share it with Brienne then he would do so in his own time. It wasn't like she was going to force it out of him or give up some of the more painful aspects of her own past until they'd gotten to know each other a little better.

 

“Tormund not like men who rape,” Frigga hissed venomously as she stabbed at the potato with her knife, “He tells us if _any_ Southern twat look at us like meat then he turn them all into little skeletons. He not care if they Lord like little boy or King like King Crow.” 

 

She was gesticulating wildly with the knife as she spoke and Brienne didn’t fancy the chances of any man that was stupid enough to try take advantage of Frigga. Perhaps Jon Snow would need to have a talk with his men that the Free Folk women should be treated with the same respect that any other lady would be. Frigga still seemed very amped up and Brienne was grateful when she went back to peeling the potatoes and she was no longer in stabbing range of the knife. After a few minutes of aggressive peeling, she started speaking again.

 

“We had little girl in camp, eleven maybe twelve, try and drown herself in lake,” Frigga said quietly as she carved a huge chunk out of the potato, “We find out that her daddy rape her, put baby in her. Tormund very, very angry. He cut that mans cock off, took all his clothes and made him walk away from camp naked in snow. Man cry like baby, beg to stay, but Tormund say no. The men find his body frozen like stone few days later.”

 

Brienne shifted uncomfortably as the memory of her own attempted assault came bubbling up to the surface once again; it was horrific enough having a random soldier try and force himself upon you but your own father? It didn’t bear thinking about and Brienne would never understand how someone could act so depraved, especially against their children. 

 

“And the little girl?” Brienne asked with a lump in her throat even though she wasn’t sure she wanted to know, “What happened to her?”

 

“We find her hanging from tree up in Haunted Forest. She already turned like The Others so we have to burn her,” Frigga said as her big dark eyes filled with sadness, “Tormund very sad. I think she remind him of his sisters but he does not say so I do not know. Now the men know what happen if they rape little girls.”

 

To emphasises her point she sliced the potato clean in two and it fell into the pot with a loud splash. Brienne stared at it for a moment or two and she was suddenly wishing that it was the heads of all those beastly men who had pulled at her clothes and tried to force her legs apart.  

 

“I go sleep now Brienne-of-Tarth,” Frigga said as she stretched her body in a very uncouth manner and yawned loudly, “You stay and I get Tormund for food later. You tell him about little boy and how Southern Folk must do as he says; you see how loud Tormund laugh at that!”

 

“Thank you, that’s very kind of you,” Brienne said as she smiled at the other woman and pulled herself out of her maudlin thoughts.

 

Frigga gave her another huge grin before she stoked the fire once more and made her way back to her tent that was just to the left of where Brienne was sitting. 

 

“If you ever want to fuck Tormund you come see me. Frigga teach you how Free Folk men like to be fucked,” Frigga called back as she stood at the entrance to her tent, “But make sure he eat pussy first!”

 

With that she disappeared, leaving Brienne alone, bright red and rather confused. She really would like to see Tormund again but she wasn’t entirely sure about all the other stuff Frigga was insistent on. Pre marital sex was a complete no-no, not that she was even _thinking_ about having sex with Tormund, but Frigga made it sound so simple and more importantly, _fun_. No body had ever even batted an eyelid at Brienne before so she’d never really had to think about actually being physical with someone. She’d thought about it and she blushed at the rather tame fantasies she used to have about Renly and Jamie but they all but fizzled out over the past few months. Imaginary sexual encounters she could deal with, real one, however, Brienne was completely out of her depth with. Before she could dwell on the strange predicament she’d found herself in Solfrid came bounding back over to her having grown bored of the children’s game. 

 

“Brienne?” Solfrid asked as she came up really close and tucked herself into Brienne’s side, “Can Hala and I come and visit you at the big stone tent you live in?”

 

The tactility of the Free Folk took some getting used to but Brienne put her arm around the little girl and pulled her in close; her thick hair tickling Brienne’s chin. 

 

“Winterfell? I don’t see why not,” Brienne said as Solfrid beamed back at her, “But we’ll have to ask your father. Or he can come as well.”

 

“Yay!” Solfrid shouted as she jumped up and down, “Can you show us everything? Daddy says’s there’s lots of animals _and_ yellow stuff that the animals eat _and_ weird food _and_ big stone rooms…“

 

Solfrid continued to list all the things that Tormund must have told her about Winterfell; her excitement infectious and Brienne hoped it didn’t turn out to be a big disappointment to her. From what she’d heard Tormund wasn’t all that enthusiastic about Winterfell but maybe Brienne could change his mind or at least convince him that it didn’t all smell like pig shit. By this point the Hound had stomped back over to them, chewing on a chicken leg as he went, and sat himself down opposite Brienne. 

 

“What?” he grunted as Solfrid stared very intently at him; her big green eyes bright with curiosity. 

 

“Why don’t you have ears or a tail?” Solfrid asked as she scrutinized the top of Clegane’s head, “Or fur?”

 

“Huh?”

 

“Daddy said you were a dog,” Solfrid clarified but she was starting to look a little confused, “I thought he meant like the wargs but better because you’re not dead or a bird.”

 

Wargs? Brienne was completely confused and it appeared the Hound was as well because he looked a little puzzled by Solfrid’s questioning.  

 

“It’s just a name girl,” Clegane grunted, “Nothing special about me.”

 

“Oh,” Solfrid said sounding somewhat dejected as she scuffed the toe of her boot along the ground, “I hoped that you might be able to tell Hala and me where Scruff is if you really _were_ a dog.”

 

“Scruff?”

 

“Our dog,” Solfrid explained looking miserable, “We had to leave him behind at Hardhome but daddy said he’s playing with all his dog friends. I’d like him to come home now though so me and Hala can play with him instead.”

 

“Hardhome?” Clegane said, “Isn’t that where all you lot got ki-”

 

Brienne kicked him very hard in the leg; glaring at him as he let out a yelp of pain. Thankfully Solfrid was busy putting some more sticks on the fire and didn’t notice when the Hound gave Brienne a death stare.

 

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing woman? I only asked if -” he growled but Brienne kicked him again and he finally took the hint and shut up. 

 

Brienne had no idea how much Tormund had told his new friend about his life before the Free Folk made it over the Wall and nor was she about to let him upset the little girl. Scruff was obviously dead but if it made Solfrid and Hala happy to think he was out playing with his dog friends then so be it.  

 

“Tormund let him loose at Hardhome so he could go and play with all his other dog friends,” Brienne said, hoping that the Clegane would catch on, “Isn’t that right Solfrid?”

 

Solfrid nodded but still looked a little glum as she moved away from the fire; trailing a stick along the ground.

 

“Oh,” Clegane grunted as Solfrid nodded and came back over to them, “I’m sure he’s having fun… or whatever.”

 

Brienne watched as Solfrid visibly cheered up and reached into her pocket and pulled out the remains of her biscuit; snapping a piece off and handing it to her. It was just as tasty as the first if a little furry, and Brienne munched on it happily as Solfrid stood in front of the Hound. 

 

“Daddy said that if you say mean things to us then you don’t really mean it,” she said as she broke apart the piece of biscuit she was holding, “He said that we have to be extra nice to you because your brother wasn’t very kind to you and not to ask you how your face got burnt.”

 

Then she handed Clegane half of her biscuit, her tiny hand dwarfed by his, and to Brienne’s great surprise he took it; shoving it into his mouth in one go. 

 

“You’re very tall,” Solfrid observed as she looked up at Clegane, “Wun Wun was taller than you though. And he didn’t fall over when he drank daddies wine.”

 

“Thanks,” Clegane grunted as bits of biscuit crumb sprayed out of his mouth much to Brienne’s disgust. 

 

Solfrid giggled and before Brienne could stop her, she climbed up on the Hounds lap and sat on his knee; her little legs swinging back and forth as she hummed a song happily to herself. Clegane looked down at her and for a brief moment Brienne was worried he was going to shout at her, but instead, he merely held onto the back of her coat so she wouldn’t fall off. 

 

“That boy looks stupid,” Solfrid observed as she pointed over at Robin who had almost stumbled over again, “That’s a _babies_ game. Why isn’t he out with all the hunters or the fighters?”

 

“Because he’s a cu-,”

 

“Because he’s Lord of the Vale,” Brienne broke in with a very pointed look at Clegane, “And he’s too young to go out fighting.”

 

“But daddy went out and fought the Thenns when he was smaller than that,” Solfrid said and Brienne could hear the scorn in her voice, “ _All_ the boys and girls in the Free Folk can fight by the time they’re his age.”

 

“Whats a Thenn?” the Hound asked as he shifted Solfrid on his knee so she could see her sister a bit better.

 

“They’re like us but mean and nobody likes them,” Solfrid explained as only a small child could, “And they eat people.”

 

“Eat people?”

 

“Uh huh. They chop up all the people they find up into little pieces and cook them in a pot,” Solfrid explained as she munched on the rest of her biscuit, “Daddy got really cross with old Duna for telling me and Hala that because Hala had bad dreams for ages.” 

 

“They’d have a hell of a time trying to eat me,” the Hound said and Solfrid laughed again which seemed to please Clegane.

 

“When we stayed at Hardhome Dim Dalba wouldn’t let them eat anyone though and said they had to eat whale like the rest of us,” Solfrid told them as she sat up and waved at Hala who had the rabbit once again, “Loboda sulked about that for ages but Dim Dalba said lots of rude words to him and he kept quiet after that.”

 

There were still a couple of Thenn clans within the camp and it made Brienne a little uneasy knowing how close she was to a group of cannibals. Hopefully, Dim Dalba’s “no-eating-the-humans” ban was still in place now that they were beyond the wall. 

 

“Do Southern Folk eat people?” Solfrid asked as she twisted around to look at the Hound.

 

“No, we only eat chicken,” the Hound told her, “Tastes much better than people.”

 

Then he was off and explaining to Solfrid about the finer points of chicken roasting so Brienne left him to it and looked over to check on Robin. Most of the children had been called away by suspicious looking parents or had run off to play in another part of the camp; leaving Hala and Robin the only two who were left. Hala didn’t seem to want to play anymore either and she untied the stick from the rabbit's leg and held onto it tightly as she stroked its fluffy ears. She seemed happy enough, even if Robin kept pestering her to put the rabbit back on the ground, and Brienne turned back to Solfrid who was eagerly listening to one of the Hound’s stories. It seemed to involve him killing lots of people over some chicken and Brienne was about to suggest that perhaps this wasn’t the best story to tell a six-year-old when a loud shout made her turn around again.

 

“IT’S _MINE_!” Robin screamed as he turned almost purple in the face with rage, “IT’S _MINE_ AND I _WANT_ IT!”

 

“What on earth…” Brienne muttered as Robin advanced towards Hala who thankfully looked more confused than frightened.

 

The little girl only held on to the rabbit tighter and refused to give it to him even as Robin tried to pull it out of her hands. Just like before he was far too slow and Hala neatly side stepped Robin before he could get anywhere near her new furry friend and Robin went crashing to the floor, whilst the Hound let out a great bark of laughter.

 

“You’ll have to be quicker than that boy,” he guffawed before muttering, “Little twat.”

 

Robin didn’t take kindly to being laughed at and Brienne was just deciding that it was probably time they left when the boy got angrily to his feet. 

 

“I'M LORD OF THE VALE AND YOU'RE JUST A _DIRTY, STINKING, STUPID SAVAGE,_ ” he screamed at Hala who was still unwilling to give up the rabbit, “AND I'M GOING TO PUSH YOU THROUGH THE MOON DOOR!”

 

Then he pushed her, hard, and Hala fell to the floor; the rabbit springing from her hands and darting into the forest. Brienne didn’t even have time to move before Robin snatched up a large stone, drew back his arm and was preparing to throw it at the little girl when instead he let out a loud cry of pain. 

 

“AGGH!” Robin screamed as a rock hit him squarely between the eyes; the force at which it had been thrown almost dropping him to his knees. 

 

“GET AWAY FROM MY SISTER!” Solfrid shouted; her face almost as red as her hair with anger as she snatched up another rock.

 

Things were getting out of hand extremely quickly and Brienne was cursing herself for ever bringing that horrid child anywhere near the Free Folk. They needed to leave and quickly before any more damage was done but Brienne was more concerned about Hala then the supposed Lord of the Vale.

 

“LORD ARRYN!” Brienne shouted as she sprang to her feet, her body tense with rage, “What on _earth do you think you are doing_?!”

 

Robin ignored her as he turned around again, intending to throw his rock at Hala when a sound like a whip cracked through the air and before Brienne could even take a step forward an arrow knocked the stone clean out of Robin's hand. An angry hiss beside her alerted Brienne to the fact that Frigga had woken from her nap; a bow raised in her hands as Robin let out a loud scream of fright. 

 

“Get away from girl,” Frigga snarled and she sounding far more menacing than any man Brienne had ever met, “Or next one goes in head.”

 

Reluctantly Brienne darted in between them and held her hands out in what she hoped was a non-threatening manner; the last thing she wanted was to be shot with an arrow all because Robin Arryn was a spoilt brat. The Hound hadn’t intervened at all but he had grabbed hold of Solfrid to prevent her from pelting Robin with another rock.

 

“I’m so sorry,” Brienne said as she tried to calm the already simmering tension, “We’re leaving now. I’m so sorry but please don’t shoot him!”

 

“You take Lord Bird and go!” Frigga snapped but she at least lowered her bow a little bit, “You not bring him again and I not tell Tormund.”

 

“I won’t I promise,” Brienne told her, “Thank you Frigga.”

 

Frigga gave her a short nod and Brienne thought miserably that after this she probably would never be allowed near Tormund or his daughters again. Hala was still sitting on the ground looking confused and frightened and Brienne was already charging towards the children just as another arrow landed only millimeters away from Robin’s hand. Unbeknown to her the little beast had picked up a heavy piece of branch and was aiming to bring it crashing down on Hala’s head when Brienne darted forward and brought her sword swinging down; cutting the branch neatly in two. 

 

“Lord Arryn, you do yourself a _disservice_ ,” she snapped as she put her sword away and picked up Hala up off the ground.

 

She seemed relatively unharmed but Brienne could feel her little body trembling through her thick coat and she clung onto Brienne tightly.

 

“It’s all right Hala,” Brienne said softly, “You’re quite safe now. Shall we take you back to your father?”

 

Hala nodded quickly against her and Brienne didn’t even have time to think of what on earth she was going to say to Tormund when Robin let out a loud scream. 

 

“I _want_ you to hurt her!” he shouted at Brienne, “ _You’re_ supposed to do what _I_ say! _I’m_ Lord of the Vale!”

 

“Well, we’re not _in_ the bloody Vale!” Brienne snapped as she completely lost her temper, “Didn’t anybody ever teach you not to hit little girls?”

 

“You can’t speak to me like that!” Robin screamed at her as his hands balled up into fists, “ _You great, ugly beast_!”

 

Brienne took a step away from him, the shock at his words evident on her face, and there was a loud, angry hissing sound as Solfrid darted forward towards him.

 

“Easy girl,” Clegane said as he grabbed Solfrid by the hood before she had a chance to pick up another rock, “You’ve already hit him once.”

 

“But he said nasty things to Brienne!” Solfrid said as she hissed like an angry cat, “ _And_ he tried to hit Hala!”

 

In all the commotion Robin had snatched up another rock and he threw it as hard as he could at Brienne; not even caring that Frigga already had another arrow strung. His aim was so poor that he missed Brienne completely but Robin found another target and Hala let out a loud cry as the rock collided with the side of her head. Solfrid let out an angry growl and starting shouting in Old Tongue at Robin; twisting violently in Clegane’s grasp

 

“Oh _fuck_!’ Clegane muttered and Brienne turned around to see what he was looking at; Hala still held tightly in her arms. 

 

Free Folk of all races, clans, and tribes were emerging from their tents and Brienne was suddenly fearful of the fact that almost every one of them was holding a weapon of some sort. The ones closest to them were looking between Robin crying on the ground and Hala in the clutches of a stranger with intense dislike. Brienne’s hand awkwardly went to her sword as mob started to advance upon them whilst Clegane hurried to her side; his hand still clenched around Solfrid’s hood. A sound similar to the buzzing of angry bees filled the air and then suddenly the shouting began; the same word over and over all the back towards Tormund’s tent. 

 

“You’ve done it now boy!” Clegane snarled at Robin before rounding on Brienne, “Fucking great this is!” 

 

Brienne could only look on in disbelief as Robin continued to wail and cry on the ground, even going as far as to bang his fists repeatedly on the ground like a toddler. It was only then that Frigga lowered her bow; clearly, he wasn’t even worth one last arrow to her.

 

“Boy weak, no good,” she snapped as she looked at him in disgust, “Free Folk boy cry like that they left out in the snow till they stop!”

 

Everything was going wrong and Brienne didn’t know what to do or how to get them all out of this safely as the Free Folk got closer and closer. Even Brynhild had put down her knitting needle and had a bone handled knife held tightly in her hand. Maybe she should ask that Frigga go and get Tormund? It sounded like a good plan but Brienne was worried that there wouldn’t be much left of them by the time she got back. Or what if Tormund blamed her for the attack upon his daughter?  

 

“Hey!” Clegane shouted suddenly as Solfrid managed to wriggle free and he was left holding only her thick coat whilst she sprinted back towards her tent; shouting for her father as she went. The mob was getting closer and closer to them and a couple of arrows had already gone flying through the air and smacked into the trees behind them. Brienne was still holding Hala tight against her and none of the arrows were aimed anywhere near her; something Robin seemed to notice as he darted behind her. 

 

“Make the bad people go away!” he wailed as he clung onto her legs, “Make them leave me alone!”

 

Brienne was about to tell him to let go of her when, deep in the bowels of the camp, a very loud and very angry roar rang out and even the Free Folk paused what they were doing to turn around and look. Oh no, Brienne thought as Hala started to squirm to be put down, this was _defiantly_ not how she envisioned her next meeting with Tormund going. She could already see a flash of red hair moving stealthily towards them and people were scattering left and right in their haste to get out of Tormund’s way.

 

“Best be going now Lady Crow,” Dim Dalba said and Brienne didn’t even have time enough to wonder where he’d popped out from as he pulled Hala from her arms, “Quick or he’ll tear that boy apart! Through those trees, take a left and you’ll be on the road to Winterfell.”

 

“But,” Brienne stammered as she tried to tell him how sorry she was and that she didn’t mean for any of this to happen.

 

“Move!” Clegane hissed as he tried to grab hold of Brienne to pull her back towards the forest, “Come on or we’ll end up with our heads smashed open.”

 

Brienne shook him off and tried to explain herself once again but the noise from the crowd was almost deafening now and she could barely hear herself think. Dim Dalba was even trying to get her to leave as he set Hala down on the floor and tried to push Brienne over to the Hound. Alerted by her father’s shouts Hala speed off and disappeared between a group of tents before anyone could stop her; Brienne watched her go and the guilt at what had happened almost seemed to swallow her up.

 

“I said MOVE!” Clegane roared and Brienne came back to her sense as another arrow went whizzing past her ear.

 

Clegane still had to physically drag Brienne away by the elbow as he grabbed Robin around the waist and hauled him away from the steadily advancing mob; she wanted to stay, to explain herself to Tormund but the Hound had already pulled her to the edge of the forest. She needed to make sure that Hala was ok but yet _another_ arrow flew past her head and in the end, Brienne had no choice but follow on behind the Hound. 

 

Clegane was all but carrying Robin through the snowy forest as the boy screamed in fright and refused to move whenever the Hound tried to get him to walk. Brienne almost crashed straight into them when they came to a sudden stop in front of her and an arrow slammed into the tree beside Robin’s head. Whirling around Brienne found a whole army of Free Folk watching them silently from the tree line; their arrows locked and loaded. Tormund wasn’t among them but he was probably tending to his daughter and with a heavy heart she hurried on after the Hound. The forest floor was deep with snow and even in her thick boots Brienne almost lost her footing a few times and the Hound was less lucky. The combined weight of himself and the violently screaming Robin had sent him crashing to the floor on more than one occasion and Clegane was far from happy. In the end, he pushed Robin to his feet and dragged him along without waiting for the boy to catch up or find his footing as he stumbled along in the snow. Robin was still wailing and crying like an infant and Brienne had finally reached the end of her tether with him.

 

“ _Will you shut up_!” she snarled and even Clegane paused as Brienne grabbed Robin by the elbow and marched on ahead with him, “It’s entirely _your_ fault that we’re in this predicament so would you please _stop crying_?!”

 

“I hate you!” Robin snarled as he tried to pull himself free from Brienne’s vice like grip, “You, stupid, ugly, troll!”

 

Troll, that was a new one, Brienne thought as she tried to ignore the insult as best she could and continued to push Robin along through the snow. 

 

“Let go of me you ugly beast!” Robin demanded but he was so weak that Brienne could easily tug him along after her, “I said let… AGGHHH!”

 

A huge snowy owl swooped down in front of them; screeching and scratching at Robin’s chest with its talons whilst the boy screamed in fright. Brienne stared at in shock as the creature continued to beat its wings over the boy’s head whilst Robin tried desperately to protect his head with his hands. Then it flew off as quickly as it came, settling in a nearby tree and Brienne could only exchange bemused glances with Clegane as they both stared up at it. The owl preened its feathers for a moment or two but then it just turned its huge amber eyes on them and stared at the three of them unblinkingly, looking for all intensive purposes like it was waiting for them to start moving again.

 

“Come on boy,” Clegane muttered as he pulled Robin to his feet and started moving again; the owl following close behind.

 

They walked in relative silence after that, aside from Robin's sniveling, and Brienne’s feet felt heavy as she’d already started to blame herself for what had happened today. She’d _known_ that Little Finger was up to something but _once again_ she’d been sucked into one of his games and now a child had gotten hurt! Poor Hala; she was such a dear little thing and Brienne couldn’t stand it that she had inadvertently caused the girl even more trauma. Perhaps even worse was the fact that Tormund would most likely never want to speak to her again, Brienne thought sadly. The Free Folk had only ever been kind to her and this is how she repaid them? By bringing some horrid little brat into their camp and causing all this chaos. 

 

“I hope this doesn’t cause too much unrest,” she mused out loud as she trudged on through the snow after the Hound. The floor was beginning to even out now and Brienne could almost see the well-worn track that led back to Winterfell up ahead of them.

 

“Are you really this stupid?” Clegane growled as he pushed Robin onwards through a clump of trees, “Or are you just pretending?”

 

“ _Excuse me_?!” Brienne seethed as she pushed her way through the trees after them, “ _I_ didn’t even want to bring him in the first place!”

 

Nobody had listened to her though, Brienne thought bitterly, and look at what had happened. It was all down to Little Finger and his disregard for everyone else except himself. Clegane didn’t even bother to turn around as Brienne caught up with them and carried on pushing a weeping Robin further forward.

 

“Aye but you still did, didn’t you?” he told her nastily and Brienne felt the guilt spread even further through her, “Honour and duty and all that shit. Bending and scraping for some cunt Lord. Can’t you see that none of that matters now?”

 

“Yes, I’m quite aware of that now thank you!” Brienne spat, he made it sound so easy but Brienne was a woman; it didn’t work that way for her.

 

If Clegane wanted to tell some Lord to fuck off then the only repercussion he’d get was a raised eyebrow or a stream of cursing before he was allowed to stomp off and be on his way. Brienne was sworn to House Stark and she would protect those girls with her life if she had to, but it came at a price. Little Finger was already trying to worm his way into Lady Sansa’s head and he used his influence over her to do as he pleased; which seemed to include telling Brienne what to do. What was Brienne supposed to do? If she said no to him, she’d be dismissed and then Lady Sansa would be on her own without anyone to protect her. Arya was more than capable but Little Finger already had her in his crosshairs and Brienne was dreading the day that she would be put in the middle of the two warring sisters. Her duty was to protect both of them but how could she do that if Little Finger spun it so that it came down to a deadly confrontation between the pair of them? No, Brienne wasn’t going anywhere and if she had to add the Free Folk into her protection then so be it.    

 

“He knows what this little shits like. Why do you think he insisted on sending him up here in the first place?” Clegane was saying as Brienne hurried along beside him, “Because he _knew_ that the little twat would have done or said something stupid and the Free Folk cut his damn head off with only _you_ to stop them.”

 

“You really think he’d go as far as getting his own nephew killed?” Brienne whispered in disbelief but Robin was too busy sniffling to take much notice of their conversation, “I know he’s power hungry and everything but even he wouldn’t go that far, would he?”

 

Clegane snorted and shook his head at her; clearly, he thought that Lord Baelish _would_ go that far.

 

“You think Lysa Arryn fell out of the Moon Door on her own, do you? Think about it. The Lord of the Vale gets killed by a pack of Wildlings that the King in the North let loose on their lands?” he said as he pushed Robin on ahead of him so he could continue talking to Brienne, “The Knights of the Vale would have desecrated that camp faster than breathing and then Jon Snows got no army or none that are loyal to him. Next thing you know they’ll have his head on a chopping block with _you_ alongside him, you mark my words.”

 

Brienne stumbled in shock as Clegane’s words hit her like a ton of bricks; she hadn’t even _thought_ about the repercussions for the Free Folk. At the time she had been more concerned with making sure that Hala was ok and that Robin didn’t end up with an arrow through his eye. The Hound was right though. If Robin went back and told Baelish what had happened then he wouldn’t think twice about sending the Knights of the Vale in; regardless of the fact that it was all Robin's fault, to begin with. Robin was Lord of the Vale and nobody would stand in Little Finger’s way should he decide to wipe the Free Folk out. 

 

“But why would he do that?” Brienne asked and even she could hear the fear in her voice, “We _need_ the Free Folk if we’re going to fight the Night King!”

 

She left out the part about not wanting Tormund, Solfrid, Hala, Dim Dalba and the rest of the Free Folk to wind up dead due to her stupidity. Those sweet little girls… Brienne couldn’t bear it if anything happened to them, not when they’d already been through so much. A horrible image flashed in her head; Tormund laying dead on the ground trying to protect his daughters whilst some nameless knight advanced upon the two small, terrified children. Shaking herself Brienne stared at Robin who was cut and muddied all over and wondered how on earth they were going to prevent Little Finger from finding out what had happened earlier today.

 

“Jon Snow needs the Free Folk, not Little Finger. You think he cares about some army of the dead he’s never seen? It’s the little bird he’s after; left all alone and trapped inside her cage,” Clegane spat menacingly it was only then that Brienne realised he was referring to Lady Sansa, “Then Baelish can have his way with her _just_ like the Lannister's did, _just_ like the Boltons did and set himself up as King in the North. With Sansa next to him, a true born daughter of a great house, he can make a play for what he really wants.”

 

“Whats that?” Brienne asked and her hand twitched to her sword at the thought of poor Sansa being enveloped in Little Finger’s plan for world domination. 

 

“The Iron Throne of course!” the Hound snarled and Brienne instantly felt very stupid; of _course_ that’s what Little Finger would be after! Being Lord Paramount of the Vale was nothing in comparison to being the ruler of the Seven Kingdoms. 

 

“He can’t find out,” she hissed to Clegane as Robin wheezed on ahead of them as the walking almost got too much for him, “We have to stop him from saying anything!”

 

Clegane nodded and made a grab for Robin; slamming him up against a tree before Brienne could stop him and suggest a less aggressive way of dealing with things. It was done now and she could only watch as Robin wailed in fright as Clegane held him tight against the tree trunk.  

 

“Shut your wailing you bloody girl!” the Hound snarled but they still had to wait for a full three minutes before Robin finally stopped crying.

 

“I’m telling my Uncle!” he cried and Brienne felt her stomach drop almost to her knees, “I’m telling Uncle Petyr what the savages did to me and they’re all going through the Moon Door!”

 

“No, you are not!” Brienne said curtly as Robin looked at her with fearful eyes, “You’re going to do what we tell you for once!”

 

Robin didn’t look too pleased about this but an owl hooted loudly overhead and he started to tremble with fright once again; at this rate, his brains would be addled before they even made it back to Winterfell. Clegane, clearly irritated by the constant crying, shook Robin violently until he ceased making any noise.

 

“You had a nice little trip with Lady Brienne, _didn’t you_? You saw the Wildlings and they were very nice to you _weren’t they_?” Clegane snarled as Robin choked back a sob, “They gave you food and water and made you feel right at home in their camp. Then Lady Brienne took you home but you didn’t watch where you were stepping _did you_? You feel right on your arse, tour your pretty cloak and hit your head.”

 

“That's a lie,” Robin shouted suddenly as he tried to beat on the Hound’s chest with his fists,”You’re a liar and I’m going to tell Uncle Petyr what you did to me!”

 

“Wrong,” Clegane snarled and he shook Robin even harder like he was a rag doll, “Tell me what happened today boy. Tell me what happened when you went to visit the Wildlings.”

 

“I’m going to push you through the Moon Door!” Robin shouted as he tried to pry the Hounds fingers away from his cloak. 

 

The Hounds hand shot out and he grabbed Robin by the chin and tilted his face upwards so he was staring directly at him. Brienne watched, shocked, as Clegane forced Robin to look directly at the thick layer of scars that ran down the left side of his face. Lord Arryn’s sobs were quickly replaced by a yelp of terror as he was forced to look at the damage that the Mountain had left behind.

 

“Look at me boy, take a good look,” Clegane said as he reached up and pulled his hair back to show off the full extent of what the fire had done to his face, “This is what will happen to you if go squawking back to your uncle. Do you want to look like me?”

 

Robin shook his head violently and tears and snot went flying all over the place; his eyes going wide as he took in Sandor Clegane’s melted flesh. Disgusted; Clegane pulled his hand away as Robin continued to sob and wiped it on his trouser leg. 

 

“No I didn’t think so, not many people do. I’ll tell you this though boy; if you hurt my friend or his daughters again it won’t be _me_ that comes creeping into your room at night,” Sandor said as he turned to look at Brienne who was standing only a few inches away from him, “What will you do to young Lord Arryn here with that pretty sword of yours Lady Brienne, if he goes telling tales?”

 

“I’ll slit your throat,” Brienne said quietly and all three of them knew that she meant it; it wasn’t even a question when it came to protecting those she cared about. The Hound gave her a nod and slightly twisted smile which told her that he at least agreed with her statement.  

 

“So I’ll ask you again,” Clegane said as he turned his ruined face back to Robin, “ _What happened today_?”

 

“I went to the camp and the savages were nice to me,” Robin bleated in a barely audible voice as he kept his eyes firmly on the floor, “They gave me food and I fell and hit my head on the way home.”

 

“Good lad,” Clegane growled and he finally let go of Robin, who sank to the floor and burst into tears once more. 

 

“You need to stop taking orders from these twats otherwise someone’s going to end up hurt!” the Hound spat at Brienne and then he stomped off up the track that led to Winterfell and left Brienne to deliver a traumatised Robin back to his uncle.

 

Three days later Brienne was sat miserably in the cold dining hall of Winterfell; picking at her dinner whilst Pod prattled incessantly away next to her. He was only trying to cheer her up but Brienne would rather have just sat in silence than listen to his forced conversation. The Hound was nowhere to be found so she had been left to wait on tender hooks to see if Robin would crack under the terror they’d put him under and tell Lord Baelish everything. Even if he didn’t say, anything Brienne had resigned herself to never seeing Tormund or his daughters again and the thought made her feel utterly depressed. Sure she might see Tormund around Winterfell, but it was unlikely that he would want anything to do with her after Robin had assaulted his daughter and _Brienne_ had been the one that allowed him to do so. 

 

“Milady,” Pod said loudly and Brienne finally glanced up from her stew to look at him, “The King has returned.”

 

Brienne’s head shot up to see Jon Snow striding into the hall and sunk down lower in his seat; he’d spent the last two days down in the Free Folk camp without any word as to why. There were many whispers as to why he’d left, mutiny and goat stealing being the most common theories, but only Brienne, Pod and the Hound knew the truth. It didn’t take a genius to work out that the whole camp was likely up in arms about the Lord Arryn incident and Brienne averted her eyes back to her food when Jon Snow walked past her table. What if he dismissed her? What would happen to Lady Sansa then? Perhaps she should go to him with her concerns but what if he assumed _she_ was a trouble maker or unfit to guard his sisters after her disastrous turn with Robin? 

 

 

“It wasn’t your fault Milady,” Pod said softly as if he was aware of what Brienne was thinking, “Seems like Lord Baelish knew that something bad like that would happen.”

 

Brienne merely grunted at him and went back to pretending to eat her food whilst Pod only sighed and tore off a huge hunk of bread. It was pointless her even being here in the mood she was in and Brienne was about to retire to her chambers when the doors to the great hall burst open once more. 

 

“So you’ve returned at last Your Grace,” a mocking voice called out and Brienne’s heart plummeted as Lord Baelish strode into the hall. 

 

True to his word, and probably terrified that Brienne would slit his throat whilst he slept, Robin hadn’t uttered a word whilst in her presence and had been packed off back to the Vale in a rather agitated state. Baelish had _known_ something had happened and Brienne had hidden in her room for the past three days in case he tried to worm it out of her. 

 

“Lord Baelish,” Jon Snow said but he didn’t look at all happy to have Little Finger in his hall, “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

 

“Pleasure? There will be no pleasure today Your Grace,” Little Finger said as he captured the attention of the whole hall, “Not when my nephew has been set upon by a pack of savage Wildlings!”

 

There were audible gasps from the assembled Northmen and Brienne sat there, shaking with fury, as Little Finger told them a very embellished version of what had happened down in the Free Folk camp. According to him, Robin had been threatened and beaten by a pack of rampaging savages who had thrown rocks at him when he merely politely inquired as to their living situation. Such a kind, gentle boy should not be treated this way he told them and to Brienne’s horror some of the Northmen agreed; their hands twitching towards their swords. _How dare he?!_ Jon Snow, however, wasn’t even trying to hide his displeasure as Little Finger continued to try and garner favour from the other Northern Houses that were assembled and Brienne’s heart began to beat very fast in her chest as the Hounds prediction appeared to be already coming to fruition. 

 

“This _Tormund_ , the Wildling chief, has threatened the life of Lord Arryn,” Lord Baelish said loudly as he looked at Lord Royce for some support, “How do you intend to deal with this threat _Your Grace_?”

 

The _Your Grace_ was said in such a mocking tone that Brienne was surprised that even Little Finger had the gall to stand there when faced with his King. However, Jon Snow brushed the insult off as it meant nothing to him and he rose to his feet and looked around at the assembled banner men.

 

“Tormund Giantsbane threatened the life of Lord Arryn because the boy was foolish enough to hit his daughter, _a girl of four_ I might add, push her to the ground and call Lady Brienne names not befitting of a Lord,” Jon Snow replied as the men began to murmur amongst themselves now they had the _real_ story and many of them looked at Little Finger warily, “Perhaps you should teach your nephew not to pick on little girls or speak ill of those who have sworn their lives to protect my sisters.”

 

Brienne felt her face flush bright red as everyone, including Pod, turned to look at her and she avoided looking at Little Finger who was quietly makings way towards her. She had tried not to let Robin’s childish remarks affect her but it was hard when that was all you heard day after day your whole life. Now the one person that thought anything more of her was probably cursing her to high heavens along with Lord Arryn Brienne thought miserably. 

 

“I’m sure it wasn’t anything she hasn’t heard before,” Baelish muttered, loud enough so that only Brienne could hear as he made his way towards Jon Snow’s table.

 

It was like a knife twisting into an already open wound but Brienne had long since mastered the art of holding back her tears, and instead, she just stared right back at Little Finger; her face an emotionless mask. He gave her a very disparaging look before he turned his attention back to Jon Snow and his _insistence_ that the Wildlings should face some kind of punishment.

 

“It may have escaped your notice _Your Grace_ but that little beast attacked a Lord!” Lord Baelish snapped, “The girl should be brought up here to apologise!”

 

“Like that’s going to fucking happen,” a voice snorted and Brienne looked up to find the Hound loitering at the back of the hall, “Maybe you should teach the stupid twat not to be such an easy target for little girls to throw rocks at.

 

Brienne would have preferred that he hadn’t used such profanity but she appreciated the sentiment all the same. If it came down to it then she would readily take the blame for what happened, even if it meant she was banished from Winterfell; she wouldn’t let them harm Tormund or those little girls. Nor was she was about to let Solfrid be dragged all the way up here and made to apologise for something she didn’t do either.

 

“You witnessed the attack?” Lord Royce asked and now everyone canned their heads to look at the imposing figure of the Hound.

 

“Aye, I was there,” the Hound said smiling as he towered over the assembled Lords, “The little firecracker struck your little Lord right between the eyes, rung his head like a damn bell. Best damn shot I’ve seen in a long time.”

 

“And you sat by and did nothing whilst a little savage girl attacked one of your own?” Lord Baelish asked as his eyes flashed with anger, “A _Lord_ no less?” 

 

“A Lord who pushed a little girl and threw a rock at her head!” Brienne burst out as she leaped to her feet in anger; not caring about protocol or the way things should be done as she wasn’t going to sit there and let Baelish get away with telling such blatant lies. 

 

“ _Hit a child in the head with a rock_?!” Lord Royce said sounding completely scandalized and he looked beseechingly at Brienne, “ My Lady I do apologise. Robin Arryn is a… difficult child but that does not excuse his behavior and as for whatever words he said to you, sincerely hope you pay them no mind.”

 

Brienne nodded at him but it was a little bit late; her mind was already turning against her and making her feel as undesirable as she always did. Lord Royce gave her a brief smile before turning his attentions back to Jon Snow whilst Little Finger simmered away in the background.

 

“I would be grateful if you send my sincere apologies to the Wildling leader Your Grace,” he said pompously, “The boy will be chastised and dealt with accordingly.”

 

“It is not the boy that needs dealing with,” Lord Baelish shouted as his seemingly carefully laid plans fell apart before his eyes, “It’s those s _avages_ that our _King_ appears to care about more than his own people!”

 

The hall erupted into shouting as all the different northern men began to bicker amongst themselves; pointing fingers at each other and accusations flying about all over the place as the tension reached fever pitch. Jon Snow banged his goblet loudly on the table and everyone finally shut up to turn to look at him.

 

“Need I remind you that those _savages_ have been fighting the White Walkers longer than any of us,” he said loudly before Little Finger had the chance to carry on speaking, “And they were the _first_ to pledge themselves to our houses in the battle to reclaim the North.”

 

There was a low muttering amongst everyone assembled in the hall but Lord Royce nodded in agreement and much more followed suit after that. Predictably, Little Finger didn’t like being told off so publicly and he launched into a long rant about Jon Snow giving favour to the Wildlings over his own people before Lord Royce hissed at him to shut up.

 

“Nobody is to go to the Free Folk camp without my permission save for Ser Davos, Ser Clegane, Lady Brienne and her squire Podrick Payne unless they wish to get an arrow through the eye,” Jon Snow said, “They are not there to be mocked, ridiculed or stared at for our amusement. They are people just like you and I and you will treat them as such.”

 

Abashed the Northmen who had not so readily agreed before as they took his words to heart; the Wildlings had done more the Starks than any of them had. Brienne even heard a group of them whispering that the Wildlings should be further protected because of their skills at fighting the White Walkers wights. The clamor in the hall died down after that Brienne felt safe in the knowledge the Free Folk would be safe from Little Fingers interventions for the time being. Jon Snow allowing her to freely enter their camp meant nothing to her though because, she thought sadly, Tormund would _never_ allow her near Solfrid or Hala again.  

 

 

“The Free Folk were here long before you or me,” Jon Snow said and his voice carried over the entire hall, “They are the true Northerns and they will remain where they are under my protection; not that they need it. You might do well to remember that Lord Baelish.”

 

Baelish gave him a curt nod and as everyone went back to their food Brienne took that as her queue to leave and she rushed off out of the hall before Pod, the Hound or anyone else could stop her; pushing past Little Finger on her way out. Her feet took her swiftly and quickly back to her chambers and she shut the door behind her with a loud bang. Flopping miserably down on her bed, Brienne tried to fight back the tears that had been threatening to fall all day. She _hated_ feeling like this, it made her feel _weak_ and _useless_ to be so affected by what people said about her; she should be used to it by now. Over time Brienne’s skin had become so thick that she’d learned to just push the insults to one side but sometimes a couple of insults really hit their mark. It wasn’t just what Robin had called her, although an _ugly beast_ was probably pretty accurate Brienne berated herself, it was the thought that she’d lost any connection she had to Tormund. He would most likely not think her beautiful anymore; not when she’d been the one to cause such harm to Hala and almost got his whole tribe massacred. 

 

A soft knock at the door surprised her and Brienne rolled off her bed and trudged over to the door, it was probably only Pod trying to cheer her again, but when she pulled the door open Brienne found Jon Snow standing there.

 

“Your Grace,” she said after staring at him in shock for a minute or two and sunk into an awkward bow before Jon Snow could stop her.

 

“Lady Brienne,” Jon Snow said, “Would you mind if I came in?”

 

Brienne hastily stood to one side as Jon Snow strode over the threshold; a large parcel wrapped in cloth tucked under his arm. After shutting the door Brienne hovered awkwardly, unsure of what to do whilst the King in the North looked around at her chambers.

 

“This was Sansa’s old room,” he said smiling as he pointed over to what was now Brienne’s bed, “She used to have a whole row of dolls laid out on her bed that Lady Catelyn had made her. I suppose she’s too old for that now.”

 

“I dare say she is Your Grace,” Brienne said even though she’d found a whole stack of them lovingly packed away in the wardrobe, “Please sit.”

 

There was a small table and chair set out in the corner of the room but Jon Snow was already pulling a chair out before Brienne could do it for him. It was obvious that he wasn't quite comfortable with all the formalities that came with being a King and to be honest, Brienne couldn’t blame him.  

 

“The little girl? Hala?” Brienne burst out before she’d even sat down opposite him, “She’s ok isn’t she?”

 

“She’s fine milady,” Jon Snow said and he smiled making Brienne feel a lot more reassured as she sat down, “Tormund said it would take more than a mere pebble to harm a daughter of the Free Folk. All though he used more… colourful words than that.”

 

“Good,” Brienne said and she managed to raise a small smile now that she knew that Hala was ok, “I’m glad no further harm came to her.”

 

“Miss Solfrid made me promise to remind you that you said you would take her to the smelly stone tent to see the rest of the funny old Southerners,” Jon Snow told her and he could barely keep the smile off his face, “And that you also promised to tell her the story about when you fought a bear; a story which I myself would like to hear one day.”

 

Brienne felt her face go scarlet again whilst the King in the North pretended not to notice, it was lovely that Solfrid was still adamant for Brienne take her on a tour of Winterfell. The bear tale was a different story altogether and Brienne didn’t feel at _all_ comfortable telling the King in the North about it just yet.

 

“If Lord Baelish should ask anything like that of you again please come and speak to me,” Jon Snow said as his dark eyes bored into her but not in an unkind way, “I have seen the way he looks at my sister.”

 

“I will do Your Grace,” Brienne told him defiantly and felt relief wash over her that Lady Sansa at least had her brother watching over when she wasn’t there.

 

“Then we are in agreement but before I leave you to your evening I have a gift for you Milady.” Jon Snow said and he lifted up the package he’d brought and pushed it towards her, “Not from me sadly, all though I hope that you understand how indebted to you I am for rescuing Sansa and trying to save Arya.”

 

“I was only doing my duty,” Brienne mumbled; embarrassed at the constant praise this seemed to be getting her.

 

Jon Snow raised his eyebrow at her but said no more on the matter which Brienne was very grateful for. She _had_ to make sure she honored the oath she made to Catelyn Stark; no matter what it took.

 

“From Tormund, as a thank you for looking after little Hala and entertaining Solfrid,” Jon Snow said as he brushed aside Brienne’s immediate awkwardness and handed her the parcel, “I would have given it you earlier but I thought… perhaps you would rather open it in private.”

 

Brienne took it from her with some trepidation and wondered what on earth it could be; hopefully, it wasn’t a dead animal of some sort. In the meantime, Jon Snow had risen to his feet and headed for her chamber door.

 

“Goodnight Milady and thank you for service,” he said as he pulled the door open, “It means a great deal to me knowing that my sisters are safe under their own roof once more.”

 

“Goodnight Your Grace,” Brienne replied as she all but shut the door in his face so she could find out what was in the package.

 

Dashing over to her bed, Brienne sat down and curiously untied the cloth, pulling the first layer of until something heavy spilled out onto her lap. A loud gasp of shock escaped her and Brienne stared down in disbelief at the thick heavy coat that was resting on her knees; the _Queen's_ _coat_. Brynhild had done an amazing job and up close it looked even more impressive, the soft fur pelts mixing together seamlessly as if they came from the same wondrous beast. With trembling fingers, Brienne reached out and stroked the soft, fur lined hood that was resting on top of the carefully folded garment. It was the softest thing she’d ever felt, even softer than the furs that had lined Tormund’s bed but why was it here? If it had been made for Daenerys Targaryen then there wasn’t a hope in hell that it was going to fit her, but Brienne couldn’t help but smile at the sentiment behind it; the coat was _beautiful._ Still, it wouldn’t hurt to take a closer look though, would it? Even if she couldn’t wear it Brienne wasted no time in quickly pulling it free from the rest of the cloth covering to get a better look at it. Perhaps she could just hang it in her wardrobe? Or keep it safely folded in her trunk? When she finally got it fully un-wrapped something was… _different_ … the coat felt _heavier_ somehow or there seemed to be more of it which completely confused Brienne. Why would Brynhild have added more to it? It was only when Brienne held it in her hands did she realise just _how_ much bigger the coat actually was.Throwing caution to the wind Brienne darted in front of the mirror that she never bothered to look in and quickly pulled the coat on; it fit her like a second skin.

 

“Wow,” Brienne breathed as she turned this way and that to inspect the coat from every angle. 

 

The reindeer pelt that made up the bulk of the coat skimmed over her in a very flattering way, giving her a more womanly shape, but it had also been rewoven completely to incorporate boiled leather patches at the elbows. Brienne found herself able to move her arms freely and when she reached for her sword would be, she found that the coat was split on that side so her weapon was in easy reach. Leather also lined the inside as well, so if Brienne had the misfortune to get an arrow stuck in her or a sword it wouldn’t do half as much damage. The thing that struck her the most was that it wasn’t just a coat to keep you warm or make you look good, it was battle ready; a _warriors_ coat.

 

_“Daddy said it’s going to be a magic coat and only the most fiercest warriors could wear.”_

 

Brienne felt her heart race a little at the thought that had gone into remaking the coat especially for her. It was only when she was almost nose to nose with herself against the mirror that she realised that the thick leather thread that held the whole garment together had been dyed a deep, dark blue; the _exact_ same shade as her eyes. There was even a crescent moon and a flaming yellow sun embodied in blue on the breast of the coat. Brienne traced her fingers over the woven sigil of her house and felt tears spring to her eyes and flow down her face. Nobody had _ever_ done anything this nice for her and Brienne hastily scrubbed the tears away from her cheeks. Her instant reaction was to think that she didn’t deserve this at all, but Tormund clearly thought she did so Brienne tried to shut her brain up for once. 

 

“Thank you,” Brienne whispered out loud even though Tormund was miles away and couldn’t hear her.

 

The hood was soft and ever so warm when she pulled it up over her head and Brienne didn’t feel as awkward as she usually did in ladies clothing. The coat was just the right balance between being feminine and practical; something which Brienne was extremely grateful for.  Her tears had stopped flowing now and she actually smiled at herself for once as she removed the hood and smoothed down her hair. Brienne stayed like that for a long time; staring at herself in the mirror and for the first time in her life, she felt truly beautiful.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed chapter two but don't worry; Brienne and Tormund will finally get to speak to each other in chapter three! Thank you to everyone who left such lovely comments and encouraged me to continue with this, there's lots more to come. If you want to come say Hi to me my tumblr is:
> 
>   [http://kichiefiction.tumblr.com](url)
> 
> PS: If I don’t reply to any comments left straight away this is a scheduled post as I’ll be having a minor operation done before this goes live. I reply as soon as I feel up to it; hope you all looking forward to chapter 3! :)


	3. Winter Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a heart to heart with an unwanted nighttime visitor, Brienne realises that she can't avoid her feelings forever; which is handy seeing as Tormund is on his way to Winterfell...

“My Lady?” Brienne called out into the darkness; her voice rough with sleep.

 

It was late when Lady Sansa appeared in Brienne’s bedroom; sliding through the darkness like a ghostly white spectre in her nightgown. In all honesty Brienne was glad to have been woken; she’d been having a funny dream, something about dead men rising right up out of the ground, fire burning through the sky and a great snowy owl flying through the sky. It had all felt a little too real and Brienne was glad to be pulled back to reality as the Lady of Winterfell slid into her room. However there was something about the expression on Sansa’s perfectly pale features that startled her; there was a coldness behind her eyes that Brienne had never seen before. 

 

“My Lady?” Brienne whispered as she tried to shield her eyes from the single, flickering candle that Sansa held out in front of her, “What’s wrong? Has something happened?”

 

Sansa didn’t respond, in fact, she barely even moved, and only crept even further forward; the candle held firmly in her grip and Brienne blinked furiously as she struggled to adjust her eyes to the gloomy surroundings. Perhaps she was sleep walking? Wax was already starting to drip down the candle and onto her perfectly polished fingernails but Sansa made no indication that she even noticed. Beads of dark red wax were dropping onto the white bed linen and Brienne’s stomach turned a little as she remembered the blood-stained snow from her dream. Even the shadows dancing around her Lady’s dark red hair made it look as if blood was spilling out of her neck.

 

“My Lady?” Brienne repeated, louder this time, but Sansa merely tilted her head to the side and stared coldly back at her. 

 

Something must be wrong, Brienne thought, as Sansa’s pale face became illuminated once more in the darkness. Maybe the White Walkers had finally made their way past the wall? The mere thought of the cold, dead men stumbling their way towards Winterfell and beyond sent a chill running through her and Brienne’s hand reached automatically towards her sword. Oathkeeper was propped up at her bedside and Brienne shook herself mentally, now wasn’t the time to succumb to fear, and scrambled to get herself out of bed. The bed covers had barely been thrown off when Sansa’s hand shot out and shoved her back against the pillows with a strength Brienne didn’t think was possible. A dull thud echoed around the room and pain burst behind Brienne’s eyes as the back of her head hit the headboard.

 

“Lady Sansa!” Brienne exclaimed as she stared back at the girl in complete shock, “ _What is it_?! _What’s happening_?!”

 

Sansa still didn’t speak and Brienne couldn’t help but flinch at the hardened expression on the young woman’s face. It was if she had been carved out of marble or from cold, hard, stone-like statues that adorned the crypts where the bones of her parents and brothers lay. It was true that at times Lady Sansa could be a little closed off and reserved, but, that was understandable after all she’d been through. The young woman standing in front of her however was someone that Brienne barely recognised; Sansa had always been so very kind to her. There was _nothing_ kind about the expression she was wearing now though and Brienne felt unusually uneasy as she tried to prop herself up against the pillows.

 

“Why did you do it?” Sansa whispered suddenly before Brienne could even get a word out, “Why didn’t you _help_ me Brienne?”

 

Candle wax was steadily dripping down the length of Sansa’s arm and onto the floor and Brienne reached out to take the candle from her; yelping shock as the hot liquid burned her skin.

 

“My lady, please-” Brienne stammered as she once again tried to take the candle from Sansa, only to have her hand slapped away 

 

“So you’ll save me from the pain of few candles but not the _monster_ that claimed me as a wife?” Sansa hissed as she bore down on Brienne, “How very charitable of you.” 

 

Brienne visibly flinched as the full weight of Sansa’s words hit her like a knife through the heart; guilt spreading throughout her body. It was true and Brienne told herself that every night when she was alone, that she had failed Sansa in every possible way, but it was still a shock to hear the words being said aloud. 

 

“You _promised_ my mother you would protect me and my sister,” Sansa snarled and Brienne could only bow her head in shame, “That you’d _find_ us and keep us _safe_ but you couldn’t even do that right, could you?”

 

Arya had understood when Brienne had tried to explain herself, had said none of that mattered now as they were both home safe and sound but Sansa clearly felt otherwise. How long had this been brewing under the surface of her perfectly calm exterior? How long had she waited to speak the truth and to tell Brienne just how badly she had failed in her duty to protect her? Brienne had _promised_ Catelyn Stark and she had failed at every turn but she had _tried_ and Lady Sansa _had_ to understand that.

 

“I understand that but Lady Sansa, please! You didn’t want to go with me! I tried but-”

 

“You should have fought harder and dragged me from that wretched inn,” Sansa cut in and Brienne flinched at the ice in her voice, “I’m just a _weak, simpering little girl_ after all.”

 

“Lady Sansa you are anything but weak!” Brienne almost shouted, “You are braver than anyone I’ve ever met. You survived the Lannister’s for God’s sake!”

 

This did little to quell Sansa’s temper and her eyes narrowed down to slits at the mention of the Lannister’s and she hurled the candle into the wall.

 

“Is _that_ what you tell yourself?” Sansa snarled as an ugly smile played about her lips, “That it doesn’t matter that you failed in your duty because Sansa Stark should be used to playing the damsel in distress by now? First the _Lannister’s_ and then the _Bolton's_. And you stood there and watched through it all, didn’t you?!”

 

“That’s not what I-”

 

“What will you do when Lord Baelish comes creeping at my door in the middle of the night? Will you stand there and watch?” Sansa hissed and Brienne felt sick to her stomach at the very thought, “You’ll do _nothing_ like you always do because that’s what your good at; _nothing_. You like to pretend that you’re as noble as those knights you love so much but your nothing but a _coward_!”

 

The words were like daggers to her heart; each one sinking in deeper and deeper and tears pricked the corner of her eyes. Lady Sansa was upset, as she had every right to be, but Brienne wasn’t about to let her think anything would happen to her now she was safe back in Winterfell. Straightening up she looked Sansa straight in the eye and held the girls gaze as she tried to ignore the look of hatred there. 

 

“Lord Baelish will not harm you, My Lady,” she said firmly as Sansa continued to stare impassively at her, “You have my _word_ and my _honor_ that nothing will happen to you whilst I am by your side.”

 

A strange expression crossed over Sansa’s face, almost like she was thinking over what Brienne had said, but when Brienne reached out towards her, she struck out with her hands. Before Brienne could stop her, Sansa had shoved her back onto the bed; her long, slender fingers wrapping around Brienne’s wrists like steel. 

 

“Lady Sansa!” Brienne shouted as she tried to push the girl off her but Sansa’s grip only tightened and she found herself pinned down and unable to move, “Lady Sansa please!” 

 

Sharp nails dug into the soft skin around her wrists and Brienne couldn’t help but let out a cry of pain as Sansa clawed at her. She deserved this, Brienne told herself, even as she heard a loud crack when Sansa painfully twisted her wrist.  

 

“WHY DIDN’T YOU HELP ME?” Sansa screamed as her eyes filled with fury; her face only inches from Brienne’s, “I begged and I pleaded for him to leave me alone; where were you?! Why didn’t you stop him?!”

 

“My Lady I-” Brienne stammered as tears began to slide down her cheeks but Sansa just shook her head at her; her long red hair glinting in the darkness.

 

“You let him do those things to me,” Sansa shrieked, sounding even more unhinged, “Those _awful_ things that nice Ladies aren’t supposed to talk about. He’ll come at night when its dark and nobody is watching, you know he will.” 

 

“He won’t,” Brienne insisted as she still struggled to sit up, “I promise I will protect you!”

 

“LIAR!” Sansa screamed and she struck Brienne hard across the face; once, twice, three times until Brienne’s cheek was burning with pain. 

 

“I’m sorry!” Brienne sobbed as she clutched her throwing cheek; tears dripping down her nose, “I _tried_ , I _tried_ to keep you safe!”

 

“Well you failed, didn’t you?! Sansa screamed; her face just inches from Brienne’s, “You always _fail_ at _everything_ you do!”

 

“I’m sorry,” Brienne wept as her vision became clouded with tears, “I’m so sorry.”

 

“Get out,” Sansa hissed, almost inaudibly, as she sprang away from Brienne, “Get out of my house.”

 

“Lady Sansa please-”  

 

“GET OUT!” Sansa screamed as she snatched up another candle stick and flung it at the wall, “GET OUT! GET OUT! I DON’T WANT YOU HERE!”

 

“My lady please-”

 

Sansa brought her fist down on the side of Brienne’s head; her face screwed up in rage as she grabbed a fistful of Brienne’s short hair. The pain was almost unbearable and Brienne’s ears were ringing from Sansa’s screaming; blood beginning to trickle down her forehead. Then finally Sansa stopped and she sat back, panting with exertion.  

 

“I said,” she hissed dangerously as her fist collided with Brienne’s head once more, “Get.Out!”

 

Battered and bleeding Brienne flew from the room and stumbled her way down the staircase; tripping on the last step and crashing down hard onto her knees. The pain didn’t stop her and she continued to run barefoot until she was in the snow-covered courtyard and out through the wide open gates. The snow was thick and heavy but somehow Brienne remembered the way down to the Free Folk camp and she ploughed onward; ignoring the numbness in her feet and the blood dripping from her nose. She had no right to go there, not after what had happened with Lord Arryn but what choice did she have? Winterfell was closed to her now and she didn’t dare go back and plead her case so she ran faster through the thick blankets of snow.  Brienne wasn't entirely sure she was going in the right direction but then a shape was beginning to emerge up ahead of her; a small figure waiting out on the edge of the camp.

 

“Solfrid!” Brienne wheezed as she doubled up trying to catch her breath, “What are you doing all the way out here? Where’s your father?”

 

The only light was coming from the huge moon that hung overhead and it was far too late for a little girl to be out in the cold. Brienne had been about to tell her so but as she got closer she noticed that Solfrid’s coat was torn, her hair unkempt and tears were running down her cheeks. Her legs were almost numb with the cold but seeing the little girl in distress only made Brienne push on harder. 

 

“Solfrid!” Brienne gasped once she finally reached her, “What’s the matter? Why are your clothes all ripped?”

 

On closer inspection Solfrid’s face was smudged with soot, she smelt strongly of smoke and there was a something that looked horribly like blood staining the bottom of her coat. Kneeling down next to her, Brienne frantically checked Solfrid for injury and asked her over and over what had happened; almost shaking the child in her urgency. 

 

“You were _supposed_ to be our friend!” Solfrid shouted suddenly as she pulled herself out of Brienne’s grip, “You said you were our _friend_!”

 

“Solfrid I don’t understand,” Brienne said as she tried to catch hold of the girl's hand, “Please, tell me what’s happened, I can help you!”

 

Solfrid didn’t seem to want Brienne’s help though and once again she pulled away from her; leaving Brienne even more distraught. 

 

“Go away!” she shouted as she took a step backward away from Brienne, “We don’t want you here!”

 

And with that, she took off running back towards the camp before Brienne could do anything to stop her. Staggering to her feet, Brienne took off after her; slipping and sliding through the snow in her haste as she shouted for Solfrid to come back. The little girl was fast but Brienne’s legs were longer and she was closing the gap between them until Solfrid disappeared down the trail that led directly into the Free Folk camp. Panic was flooding her system now as she tried to think of a reason as to why Solfrid was in so much distress. It wasn't like she could go back to Winterfell to get help either. Her foot slipped out from underneath her and Brienne went crashing to the floor and was unable to stop the loud scream that rang out when pile of snow she’d fallen into was dappled with huge splats of crimson; it looked horribly like blood.

 

“Oh my god,” she whispered as she desperately tried to scrub the blood off her hand.

 

Loud sobs were echoing up ahead and Brienne pulled herself to her feet and carried on for a few more yards; desperate to find Solfrid. But as she rounded the corner the sight before her made her stop dead in her tracks. The huge tents that had once stood tall and proud across the farmland had been reduced to nothing but charred cinders and thick plumes of smoke where spiralling up into the night sky. Coughing loudly Brienne stumbled past the first few rows of tents, some of them still flickering with fire, as she hurried on after Solfrid; her brain still not quite realising what she was seeing. Something crunched beneath her foot and Brienne recoiled in horror when she looked down to find a pair of severed fingers bloodied and broken in the snow. A few more fingers were near it, then the charred stump of a hand and suddenly the moon reappeared from behind the dark cloud and Brienne let out a loud scream as the snow-covered field was bathed in light. Bodies littered the ground; men, women and little children all left out in the snow like broken, forgotten toys. How had this happened?! Why had no warning been sent or request for aid?! The loud wail of a child drew her attention away from the lifeless eyes of Dim Dalba’s severed head and Brienne carried on, tripping over bodies as she went. After what felt like hours she found Solfrid outside the ruined debris of her tent; her little body hunched over something that was lying on the ground. 

 

“Solfrid please come with me,” Brienne begged as she ran over to the little girl, “Please, we need to get back to Winterfell where it’s safe!”

 

Solfrid ignored her and continued to cry loudly; pushing Brienne away when she tried to pull her away from the tent.

 

“You let them kill daddy!” Solfrid wailed as she pulled herself free from Brienne’s grip once more, “YOU LET THEM KILL HALA!”

 

It was only then that Brienne realised what Solfrid had been slumped over and unwilling to be pulled away from; it was Tormund’s dead body. A silent scream escaped her as flung herself down on the ground next to him, her fingers desperately searching for a pulse; letting out a loud howl when she couldn’t find one. His eyes were open but there was no life left in them, like a candle snuffed out. A thick red gash was across his throat and his coat, once snowy white, had turned a muddy red colour. A small pair of feet and a lock of red hair was poking out from underneath him and Brienne couldn’t bear to look any longer; tears already starting to pour down her cheeks. 

 

Suddenly there was a loud scream behind her and Brienne turned around to find a nameless soldier had hold of Solfrid by the arm; twisting it painfully behind her back.

 

“This one too Milady?” the soldier asked; the glee over the slaughter that lay before them evident on his face, “She’s the last of them.”

 

Brienne made a move towards him, to shout at him to let Solfrid go when her eyes fell upon the white falcon volant and crescent moon on a blue field that was woven into his cloak; the sigil of House Aryan. The Knights of the Vale had come _just like_ Sandor Clegane had said they would and Brienne felt her legs go out from underneath her as she dropped to her knees. She had done this by being stupid enough to bring Robin Arryn up; she’d killed them all! Brienne had never meant for any of this to happen! There was still time though, still time to do _something_ right; she could still save Solfrid. Letting out an angry bellow Brienne charged towards the soldier, intent on removing his head from his shoulders, but he grabbed Solfrid by her hair and lifted her onto her feet; ignoring her screams of protest as he bent her head back to expose her throat.

 

“LET HER GO!” Brienne screamed as she desperately tried to reach Solfrid, “LET HER GO RIGHT NOW!!”

 

The soldier ignored her and continued to pull on Solfrid’s hair and he laughed cruelly when she began to cry.

 

“DADDY!” Solfrid wailed as tears poured down her cheeks, “DADDY!”

 

“Shut up!” the soldier snarled as she shook her roughly by the hair, “Your kind should never have been allowed over the wall in the first place, ain’t that right milady? _Filthy, stinking savages_ ; they’ve got no place with the likes of us!”

 

Brienne stared at him; still unsure what was happening or how on earth it could have come to this. Jon Snow would _never_ have allowed this!

 

“Take a good look you little beast,” he hissed as he kicked Tormund hard enough for him to turn over and Brienne let out a strangled sob as Hala’s tiny, lifeless body rolled out from underneath him, “Take a good look because you’ll be joining them soon enough!”

 

Hala’s eyes were closed and she looked as if she could be asleep, her pale little face almost peaceful, but the illusion could only last so long; her white fur coat stained red and torn where a sword had pierced her body. Solfrid began to cry loudly as the soldier forced her to look at the bloodstained bodies of her father and sister.

 

“ _Please_ ,” Brienne choked out as she staggered back to her feet, “ _Please_ just let her go!”

 

The soldier ignored her once again and instead aimed a kick at Tormund’s body; laughing cruelly when Solfrid continued to cry.

 

“Looks like you got him good,” the soldier said with a smirk as he continued to pull Solfrid sharply by the hair, “That ginger bastard and his little brat.”

 

He nodded to where Tormund to the huge gash across his neck and a sword buried all the way up to the hilt where his heart should be. Without even thinking Brienne reached down and pulled; Oathkeeper sliding free of the flesh like a knife through butter. The weapon fell to the ground with a dull thud and Brienne recoiled in horror as her blood stained sword glinted back at her in the darkness. 

 

“I didn’t… no… I couldn’t,” Brienne muttered wildly as Solfrid continued to try and free herself from the soldier's grip, “I could _never_ hurt them!”

 

“Kill them all,” the soldier said as he gave Solfrid a sharp slap on the head to make her stop wriggling, “That’s what _you_ told us milady. On Lord Baelish’s orders, _you_ told us; all of them had to go.”

 

“That’s not true,” Brienne whispered; she’d been with Lady Sansa all this time, hadn’t she? She would _never_ let _anyone_ hurt Hala or Solfrid or any of the rest of the Free Folk, “I would never…”

 

The soldier snorted and rolled his eyes but the distraction gave Solfrid the chance to break free and she charged towards Brienne; slamming her little fists into any part of her she could reach.

 

“I HATE YOU, I HATE YOU, I HATE YOU!!” she screamed as she pummelled Brienne’s legs, “I wish daddy had never met you! I wish you’d never come to our camp! You brought the Bird Boy! This is all your fault!”

 

Brienne wanted to tell that wasn’t true but the words seemed to stick in her throat and she just stood there whilst Solfrid continued to scream at her. _How_ had this happened?! Her hand was sticky with Tormund’s blood but Brienne had no memory of being here, of organising the slaughter the soldier said she was responsible for. Now Tormund and Hala lay dead and the soldier in front of her was getting impatient; all too eager to eradicate the Free Folk completely.  

 

“Get back here you little beast!” he snarled, lunging forward as he dragged Solfrid away by her hair once again, “You’ll be joining your daddy and that halfwit sister of yours soon enough.”

 

Brienne attempted to grab her but her arms felt heavy and uncooperative; Solfrid slipping away from her once more. Her body was chilled all the way to the bone, her bare feet frozen in the snow, but Brienne just couldn’t seem to be able to make her body move. If she could just make herself get up off the ground then she _might_ have a chance at saving Solfrid. Brienne could take her to Tarth and keep her safe or flee to some other far-flung corner of the world and hope that the White Walkers never found them.

 

“How shall I do it milady?” the soldier asked, his voice heavy with excitement, as he drew a short sword from his belt and held it to Solfrid’s throat, “Slow so she can feel it? Or quick so that’s the last Wildling savage we have to worry about?”

 

Little beads of blood were already beginning to form at Solfrid’s neck where the knife was digging in; her cries of pain echoing all around. Brienne wanted to scream at him to stop but no sound came out, no matter how hard she tried.

 

“Fine,” the soldier sneered at her, “I’ll do it myself.”

 

“STOP!” Brienne screamed as she finally found her voice and stumbled forward, “PLEASE DON’T HURT HER!”

 

“Your too late Lady Brienne of Tarth,” he snarled as he wrenched Solfrid’s head back even further, “She’s just another one you’ll have to add to your list of failures.”

 

Then he dragged the knife across Solfrid’s throat; blood spilling down her fur coat and onto the white snowy ground. The childs gurgling scream was still ringing in Brienne’e ears when she woke, crying out in the night, from the nightmare that had stalked her dreams every night for the past week. Fear gripped her and Brienne almost fell out of her bed; her fists tangled in the sheets as she struggled to regain control of her breathing. It felt some phantom hand had it’s claws around her throat and Brienne flew into a panic once again as her breath came out in short, desperate gulps.

 

“It’s not real, its not real, it was just a dream, they’re fine,” Brienne wheezed to herself in the darkness as panic began to rise in her chest once more, “It was just a _stupid_ dream.”

 

However the sound of Solfrid’s petrified screaming and the sight of Hala’s crumpled little body, even if it was only imagined, was flashing before her eyes once again and Brienne clapped her hand over her mouth as the phantom smell of freshly spilled blood hit her nostrils; gagging instantly. Her internal chant of “It’s not real, it’s not real” was being eroded as she remembered Tormund laying dead on the ground and Brienne leaned over the side of her bed and retched; Sansa and Solfrid’s screams mingling together as she spat bile onto the floor. A physical reaction to her situation seemed to help calm her and once her stomach had stopped rolling, Brienne slumped back down against her pillows. The smell of stomach acid was making her want to heave but it was also helping to bring her back to the present and, unpleasant as it was, Brienne focused on the smell; wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Once she felt a little better Brienne tried to rationalise her thoughts even as her body twitched with adrenaline and tried to force her into action. The first time that this had happened, Brienne had flown out of bed and was halfway to the Free Folk camp barefoot before reality kicked in. The Knights of the Vale charging into the small patch of farmland that Tormund and his kin had settled on and slaughtering them all in their sleep was, unfortunately, a very real possibility and a chain of events that Brienne had unwittingly started. The dream wasn't a exactly a premonition, Brienne didn't hold much stock in clairvoyance, but it had _felt_ real enough that she turned on her heal and ran all the way back to her room before anyone saw her. She _could not_ , _would not_ , be responsible for anything bad happening to Tormund and his family; one wrong move and they'd all be dead. There was too much at stake and no matter how much it pained her to look like that the ungrateful recipient of the beautiful coat Tormund had made her, Brienne had stayed put in Winterfell. There were eyes and ears everywhere, she knew that now and she wouldn't risk their safety for anything. The coat had been hidden all the in back of her wardrobe where not even a nosy servant would find it but Brienne just couldn't help herself. Every night before she went to sleep she would take it out just to look at it; checking for blood stains each time. 

 

“It was just a dream,” she told herself; louder this time and with a little more conviction, “Just a _stupid_ dream.”

 

She wanted to believe that, desperately so, but her hand automatically went to her cheek and Brienne was _almost_ convinced that she could feel the sting where Sansa had struck her. Acrid bile burned the back of her throat and Brienne fought back tears as she remembered how Sansa had sounded so certain that someone _else_ would be coming along to do her harm; that would be some _other_ unwanted creature sneaking into her bedroom at night. They were all better off with out her; Solfird, Hala, Sansa and Tormund. All she ever did was fail at everything she did and after all her mistakes, Brienne was amazing she’d been kept around this long. Tormund should have been _furious_ with her after what had happened to Hala and demanded her removal from Winterfell but, for some strange reason, he’d sent her a beautiful gift instead. If it weren't for Brienne then none of that horrible business with Lord Arryn would have happened either; she’d only wanted the boy to learn some manners. Now, thanks to her, Little Finger was already plotting on how he could use a threat against his nephew as a way to wipe out Jon Snows and potentially take Winterfell for himself. That put Arya and Bran in the firing line as well and Brienne’s head began to ache with the desperation of to all; she should never have been so stupid! Lady Sansa should have had her head on the chopping block for allowing her be sold off to the Boltons and yet here she was free to live another day by her Ladies side. A slight tremor ran through Brienne’s hands but even as she clenched her fists to try and still them, the shadows danced about in front of her and all she could think about was the field of smoking tents and the smell of burning bodies. Leaning over the side of the bed, Brienne vomited heavily into her chamber pot; acrid bile burning the back of her throat.

 

“Get a _hold_ of yourself,” Brienne scolded herself as she spat bitterly into the pot and almost slapped herself in annoyance that she could be so feeble minded, “ _Nothings_ happened to them; they're fine.”

 

Rubbing her eyes tiredly Brienne slumped back against her headboard and tired not to dwell on the fact that she’d been having the dream, or some variation of it, every night since she’d first let Sansa Stark slip through her fingers. Tormund, Hala and Solfrid had only started infiltrating her subconsciousness after her disastrous expedition to the Free Folk camp with Lord Arryn. Each night an extra piece to the puzzle was added, another horrific scene for her to agonise her, and it had gotten to the point where Brienne now dreaded falling asleep. She should be used to it by now she thought miserably as Lady Sansa had haunted her dreams for a good while now but it had only been in fits and spurts and Brienne had put that down to her and Pod being out on the open road looking for the Stark girls. It was _Catelyn Stark_ that had haunted her dreams at first, or sometimes Renly when Brienne was feeling particularly low, and they screamed at her that she’d failed in her duty to protect them both. They were right, she knew that, but whenever she tried to appease her daemons the more they tormented her. Pod had narrowly missed a punch to the face once when he’d tried to rouse her from one of these nightmares; telling her she had been shouting in her sleep. She’d managed to fob him off with some tale or other about what she’d been dreaming about and Pod knew better than to bring the subject up again. Then by some stroke of luck she’d found Arya but only to have her slip through her fingers _and_ had to do battle with the Hound. Brienne hadn’t slept for weeks after that; Catelyn Stark’s ghost wouldn’t let her. After endless months on the road Brienne had finally done something right and rescued Sansa from the clutches of Bolton’s but the damage to the poor girl had already been done, and there was nothing Brienne could do to change that. The one sliver of hope she’d had was that the dreams all but vanished once they'd made it to Castle Black and she was finally able to get some rest. As with most good things in her life, Brienne’s dreamless sleep didn't last long and once she’d set up home in Winterfell the dreams had come back with full force. Perhaps it was hearing about all the terrible things the Stark sisters had been through or the fact that Catelyn Starks body rested beneath her feet in the Winterfell crypts that was putting her on edge? During the day, when she saw how Sansa would take a step backwards before anyone could invade her personal space or how her wide leather belt wrapped over her dress that was tightly laced up at the side and _incredibly_ difficult to remove; a warning to anyone that would try and touch her. Sansa had no handmaiden and any attempt to get her one was met with a firm “No thank you”. She dressed herself each morning and undressed herself each evening, no matter how many times Brienne offered to help. 

 

“You’re not here to help with the dressing of women Brienne; there’s more to you then that,” Sansa had told her with a small smile before she firmly shut her bedroom door; the bolt sliding firmly into place.

 

What Ramsay Bolton had done to Lady Sansa was _so_ unspeakable that Brienne sometimes found it hard to look her Lady in the eye; the guilt she felt at not protecting Sansa was almost overwhelming at times. After Clegane’s little speech about Lord Baelish having far more than Lady Sansa’s best interest at heart, Brienne had been unable to think of anything other than her charges safety ever since. She hadn’t been able to protect Sansa before and she damn sure wasn't about to let it happen again. Sleep wouldn't find her again that night so Brienne groggily pulled herself out of bed and set about getting dressed. It was hours before dawn but that didn’t stop her from throwing on her cloak, shoving her feet into her boots and quietly slipping out of her chambers. A thick blanket of darkness covered the corridors but Brienne found her way towards Lady Sansa’s bedchamber easily enough. Creeping silently, she didn't think she had the energy to think up a good excuse should someone stumble upon her, Brienne slipped into the small alcove opposite Sansa’s door. Tucked to one side and expertly hidden the alcove gave her an excellent view should Lord Baelish, or anybody else, decide to come creeping at Sansa’s bedroom door. Brienne would be ready for them if they did as strapped to her side like a constant companion was Oathkeeper; the blade newly sharpened.  

The stone floor was freezing and not exactly comfortable but Brienne ignored her discomfort and settled herself down on the hard floor; shivering slightly as she pulled her cloak tightly around her. Oathkeeper made a clunking sound as it scraped the across the floor as she sat down and Brienne quickly glanced up the dark corridor just in case the sound had alerted anyone to her presence. Nobody appeared, not even one of the kitchen rats, but that didn’t deter Brienne from keeping her eyes locked on Sansa Stark’s bedroom door. She’d been coming to this exact spot every night since the dreams had started up again was determined that _this_ time nobody would lay so much a finger on the girl. So far nothing much of interest had happened on her nightly expeditions and a lesser person might have given up but Brienne was unable to forget the fear in Sansa’s voice, real or imagined, when she’d spoken of gaining another unwanted nighttime visitor. Something in Brienne’s gut told her she was doing the right thing and she was past caring about the odd looks the servants gave her when they’d stumbled upon her on their way down to the kitchens at daybreak. Brienne was used to people looking at her strangely so she wasn’t all that bothered, although she was _slightly_ worried that one of them might tell Sansa what she was up to. Telling Sansa about her dream might frighten her or, worse still, make her believe that Brienne thought she was weak, silly girl that needed everyone else to protect her. It was only the fear of Little Finger tripping over her in the middle of the night and having her ousted from her post that stopped Brienne from standing right outside Lady Sansa’s bedroom door; day _and_ night. There’d be some cleverly woven story; some tale about how Brienne was mad or obsessed with the Lady of Winterfell or, more likely, that she was a spy for the Lannister’s. Just exactly _how_ Little Finger had found out about Brienne’s journey back to Kings Landing with Jamie she didn’t know, but no doubt Baelish would concoct some story to use against her. Probably something along the lines of how Jamie had turned her head and she was secretly here to assassinate the Stark girls at the behest of the Cersei Lannister. That would probably be it Brienne thought gloomily as she picked at the ground with her nails. She’d have a rope around her neck faster than breathing if anyone so much as _thought_ she was in Cersei Lannister’s pocket. 

 

Only a few days previously, a raven requesting Lady Sansa’s immediate presence in Kings Landing had arrived and Brienne had been on edge ever since. It had all seemed very suspicious that as soon as Jon Snow was declared King in the North and had gone to meet with Daenerys Targaryen, the intended conquer of Westeros, Cersei should suddenly want to an audience with Sansa Stark. Sansa’s head would be skewered on a pike faster as soon as she got within three feet of the Iron Throne if she was foolish enough to venture down to Kings Landing but, thankfully, she didn’t need Brienne to point this out to her.

 

“I will not step foot in Kings Landing whilst Cersei Lannister is queen,” Sansa had said when she called both Brienne and Little Finger into her study to discuss the letter, “If they want another Stark prisoner then they can come and take me. Until then I’ll remain where I belong.” 

 

“A wise choice my Lady,” Baelish had said before Brienne could even get a word in edgeways, “However you should send someone in your stead. I’m sure Lady Brienne is _more_ than capable. I’m told that Jamie Lannister showed her a great kindness when they journeyed back to Kings Landing together.”

 

Thats when Brienne had realised that a _different_ game was about to be played; one that she would have previously lost if it hadn’t been for the previous insight from Sandor Clegane. This was _exactly_ the type of opportunity Little Finger would have been waiting for and whilst Brienne was far from stupid, she didn’t think it would happen _this_ quickly! After the Lord Arryn fiasco she’d been on her guard for a knife in the back or a suspicious tumble down one of Winterfell’s long staircases but that wasn’t really Little Finger’s style. It was all about divide and conquer with him and Brienne knew the minute he got rid of her that he would be whispering in Sansa’s ear; saying that Brienne wasn’t to be trusted, nor Arya or Jon. It wasn’t that Brienne didn’t trust Jon Snow to look after his sister, but he was far too preoccupied with the coming war and trying to form an alliance with Daenerys Targaryen to notice the extent of Lord Baelish’s plotting. Arya was _more_ than capable of looking after herself, Brienne knew that only too well, but her skills as a fighter wasn’t what Brienne was worried about. The sisters were so often at odds with each other that she was loathed to leave them alone together for any extended period of time, lest they start bickering and arguing with each other. It could only take for one wrong word and Arya would be banished and Brienne would be faced with the difficult decision to stay or go with her. Lord Baelish had already laying the groundwork that Arya wasn’t to be trusted, that she wasn’t the same young girl that Sansa had once known; she was a threat. Brienne was sworn to protect _both_ Stark girls and she hadn’t been about to let Lord Baelish keep her from that duty, no matter how hard he tried to get rid of her.   

 

“Sansa is Lady of Winterfell, _not_ me!” Brienne had reminded him through gritted teeth, “They invited _her_ and they want _her_ there.” 

 

A trip to Kings Landing didn’t sound like much fun either and it was only Jamie that would show her any kindness, the rest would probably try and kill her the moment her guard was down. Brienne shivered despite herself; she could still remember the way that Baelish had settled himself behind Sansa, his hand on the back of her chair, as he whispered in her ear. Her swords hand had twitched as she watched him and remembered Sansa’s words about what happen to her in the dead of night when no one could help her. The Hound, as irritating and disgusting as he was, had really opened Brienne’s eyes up to Lord Baelish’s true intentions and she couldn’t stand it; that smug smile of his, thinking he had already won.  

 

“The trip to Kings Landing is long Lady Brienne and you won’t be traveling on summer roads,” Baelish had told her and Brienne had been surprised he hadn’t already pushed her out of the door, “The sooner you leave the better your chances of making it on time.”

 

“My Lady I-” she started but Baelish had instantly interrupted her and insisted, once again, that Brienne should journey to Kings Landing with Pod in Lady Stark’s stead. He’d probably have some down-and-out like Bronn waiting to ambush her the minute she set foot outside of Winterfell. In the end Brienne and Little Finger had started to argue back and forth; their voices becoming louder and louder as they both tried to talk over each other. 

 

“No,” Sansa had said, loud enough for them both to hear her above the commotion they were making.

 

Brienne could still remember the exact moment her stomach had sunk all the way to the bottom of her knees; fearful that Lady Sansa saw fit to send her off to Kings Landing after all. The only good thing about the situation was that for once, Little Finger didn’t look as if he knew _exactly_ what was going on. He’d shot Brienne a rather distasteful look before quickly rushing to Sansa’s side and trying to argue his case further.  

 

“I beg your pardon, My Lady,” he said as he leaned over her, almost shielding her from Brienne’s view, “But what exactly are you saying no to?”

 

“I said no; Brienne will not be going to Kings Landing,” Sansa had replied and Brienne had finally breathed a sigh of relief, “Ser Clegane has agreed to go with Pod and Jon, to take charge of that… that _thing_ they brought back with them.”

 

The _thing_ Sansa had been referring to still sent shivers down Brienne’s spine; her nostrils flaring whenever she remembered just how _awful_ the decaying flesh had smelt. Brienne hadn’t _quite_ believed it when she’d heard the tales of the White Walkers. It was probably just a clan of Wildlings that had gotten out of hand or the Nights Watch trying to scare people into sending more men to man the Wall was what she’d always told herself. Dead men that could walk and talk and an ancient king that could raise the dead from their graves was just not something Brienne was prepared to believe. The “Others” had only been mentioned in passing when she was a small child, and more often than not by one of the older children intent on frightening her. That was until she’d watched Sandor Clegane drag what looked had looked like a dead body clothed in filthy, stinking rags down into the dungeons. The noise it had made, a horrible, ungodly sound, as it thrashed and flailed about had sent Brienne fleeing back to her room so she wouldn’t have to look at it any further. Not even Little Finger could turn the fact that a colossal army of dead men that was almost knocking at their gates to his advantage and he wholeheartedly agreed that the thing should be taken to Kings Landing.

 

Sansa had made her wishes clear and Brienne had watched as she bid her brother good bye; Little Finger watching her carefully out of the corner of his eye. He’d failed in his first attempt at getting rid of her, but it _certainly_ wouldn’t be the last and Brienne had been on her guard ever since. Any thoughts of visiting Tormund and his daughters had sadly been pushed far into the back of her mind. Truth be told it was also _far_ easier to blame Little Finger and that terrible dream for her continued absence rather then be honest with herself and admit that she’d left it far too long to go down to the Free Folk camp. Nerves had been the first thing that got her; what if she did or said something stupid? Small talk didn’t come naturally to Brienne and she tended to be rather awkward in social situations and never knew _quite_ what to say. The usual pleasantries she was fine with but after that Brienne really had no idea what to say and it wasn’t like she had many friends to practice on either. Pod she was fine with and Lady Sansa and Arya to an extent, but that was because they didn’t really expect anything else from her except for her to do her duty. Tormund on the other hand seemed to want to know all about her and Brienne still didn’t fully understand why; being a naturally talkative person he could chat to anyone so why was he so fixated on _her_? It made her stomach flutter and her cheeks redden at all the potential answers to that question so Brienne had decided it was just easier to avoid it entirely. Besides, she still wasn’t completely sure that Tormund wasn’t just going to shout at her for causing Hala to have a rock thrown at her head. Worse still; what if Tormund was actually _nice_ to her? What if he was all happy, smiley and pleased to see her and all Brienne could do was grunt out a few words before turning red and running off? Scuffing the ground with the toe of her boot Brienne cringed inwardly at how socially inept and useless she was. It was almost as if her brain couldn’t quite understand how to respond when someone was merely being nice and pleasant to her. Not that it mattered either way as over a week had passed since she should have gone down to thank him for the coat and no doubt Tormund would have lost interest in her by now.  

 

“Stop being so bloody pathetic,” she muttered out loud to herself but only succeeded in irritating herself further.

 

Maybe this was all she was good for; skulking outside Lady Sansa’s room and keeping the rats at bay. Brienne had never really felt like she’d fit in anywhere mostly because she was either too tall, too good with a sword or too _odd_ for anyone to really want to get to know her. She could count the people she counted as friends on one hand and it wasn’t as if she was going to run out fingers anytime soon. Solfrid had wanted to be her friend though a nagging voice told her but she was six and probably wanted to be friends with everybody. Although even Solfrid probably wouldn’t be interested in being Brienne’s friend after what had happened to Hala and all the horribleness with Robin. Brienne would like to be Tormund’s friend, or anyone’s for that matter, she just didn’t know how and her guard was usually up before the other person had even started speaking. It was only after she was lost in thought as she pondered her current situation that Brienne suddenly froze; she _swore_ she heard something. Straining her ears to listen, Brienne lay motionless in the darkness as she waited apprehensively to find out if she was alone out here after all. Nothing; only the sound of her own heavy breathing reverberating in her ears. It was probably just one of the many rats that would often abruptly appear as they scurried past Brienne on their way to the kitchen. Stifling a huge yawn, Brienne settled back down and tried to focus on remaining alert; even as her eyes started to droop a little. This was the sixth night in a row that she had taken watch over Lady Sansa’s bedroom door and the lack of sleep was beginning to creep up on her. 

 

“Get it together Brienne!” she told herself as she gave herself a little shake to try and wake herself up a bit more. 

 

Half an hour later Brienne’s mind had wandered back to what had happened when Jon Snow and the others had journeyed to Kings Landing. Cersei had readily agreed to a pause in hostilities, especially once she’d seen the wight Clegane had brought, and was willing to fight alongside the North; something which Brienne found very hard to believe. The fact that Daenerys Targaryen had flown in on the back of one of her monstrous dragons probably had had a lot to do with Cersei’s decision and it _certainly_ would have swayed Brienne. Although even when faced with a dragon or two Cersei Lannister wasn’t one to back down so easily, especially when everything she’d built was at stake, and it gave Brienne an uneasy feeling deep down in her gut. There was always _something_ with Cersei; something that she would pull out at the last minute to ensure she got what she wanted and what she wanted was the Iron Throne. Thinking about Cersei’s scheming inevitably led to thinking about Jamie and the unavoidable fight that was bound to occur between them. Brienne was sworn to House Stark and she would give her life to protect those girls but if she had to fight Jamie, she wasn’t all that sure she’d have it in her to kill him. Aside from Pod Jamie was the first real friend Brienne had ever had _and_ he’d come back to rescue her from that dratted bear. The thought of running him through with Oathkeeper always made her blood run cold so Brienne pushed all thoughts of Cersei, the Great War and dead men from her mind; focusing on the job at hand. Sitting herself up a bit straighter, Brienne had just been considering moving closer to Sansa’s door, perhaps even pressing her ear against it to listen, when she heard a small noise just to the left of her. The sound seemed to be getting closer and Brienne remained motionless in place; poised to strike should the occasion present itself. Time seemed to tick by even more slowly and Brienne had been about to relax her stance when something flew towards her through the darkness.   

 

“Ughh!” Brienne yelped as a rat streaked across her outstretched legs, springboarded off her boot and disappeared into the darkness. 

 

“Bloody hell!” she scolded herself, as she stared after the little creature. 

 

Thankfully nobody had been alerted to her scream of panic and Brienne was about to admit defeat and go to bed when she heard _another_ noise; this time coming from the staircase. Straining her ears in the darkness Brienne was _certain_ she’d heard something and her whole body tensed with anticipation. A loud thud echoed all around the small corridor, followed by heavy footsteps coming from the staircase just ahead of her. Brienne’s hand flew to her sword but before she could unsheathe it she was almost blinded by a bright light that was suddenly being thrust into her face.

 

“Tarth?” a deep voice growled, “What are you doing sat out here in the dark?”

 

It was Sandor Clegane and Brienne blinked furiously as her eyes began to become a custom to the light; what was _he_ doing here?!

 

“Are you ghost hunting or something?” he growled as he loomed over in the darkness; a smirk playing about his crooked lips, “Waiting for Ned Starks ghost to pop out so you can nag discuss how to remain loyal to all the cunts that take it upon themselves to screw up your life?”

 

“None of your business,” Brienne replied tartly Whilst Clegane snorted loudly but thankfully lowered the lantern he was holding, “And it’s _rude_ to speak ill of the dead. Now if you wouldn’t mind I’m very busy so-”

 

She’d been about to tell him to get lost, in the politest way she could at this hour, but instead of leaving Clegane sat himself down next to her.

 

“Budge up,” he grunted and proceed to almost half sit on her before she had time to move out the way. 

 

“I really don’t think-” Brienne protested but it was too late; she’d found herself with a very unwelcome nighttime companion.

 

To make matters infinitely worse, Clegane _reeked_ of stale alcohol and smelt very much like he hadn’t bathed in several days. Brienne found herself having to breathe through her mouth so as to avoid gagging from the smell. The toxic fugue of alcohol was beginning to make her lightheaded and Brienne found herself holding her breath when the Hound let out a huge beer-breathed yawn. What on _earth_ would people think if they found her sequestered in the darkness with him?! Ugh! On closer inspection Clegane was even more disheveled looking than he usually was and there was at least a weeks’ worth of beard growth on his chin and his clothes were tatty and unkempt.

 

“As I said before I really don’t need any assistance so if you wouldn’t mind…” Brienne trailed off awkwardly as the Hound began to pick wax out of his ears; plainly not listening to her. 

 

Great. She’d be stuck with him all night at this rate! Maybe she could say she was going to bed and then sneak back when he was gone? The alcove was rather small and Brienne was starting to feel rather hemmed in and every sound the Hound made seemed to be amplified somehow. Even the way he _breathed_ was irritating and she was beginning to see why Tormund hadn’t allowed him to go hunting with the rest of the Free Folk.

 

“Chicken?” Clegane asked abruptly as he pulled a greasy looking chicken leg from out of his pocket and offered it to her.

 

“None for me, thanks,” Brienne said as she pushed his hand her away and the queasy feeling in her stomach began to intensify. 

 

“Suit yourself,” the Hound grunted as he took a huge bite; bits of chicken flesh dangling from his scrubby beard. 

 

Brienne turned away as her stomach started to roll and the Hound started to chew loudly. She’d barely seen Clegane since his return from Kings Landing, which she wasn’t exactly sorry about to tell the truth. Beside’s, he’d much preferred to spend his time in the Free Folk camp getting drunk and generally making a nuisance of himself than stay at Winterfell. Only two days ago Brienne had been summoned out into the courtyard by a couple of the Winterfell guards, only to find three huge Free Folk men had turned up with Clegane passed out on one of their wooden sleds. Tormund hadn’t been amongst them and Brienne felt another stab of guilt at not having visited to say thank you for the beautiful coat he’d given her. She’d been toying with the idea of sending a message with the Hound but he never seemed quite sober enough for the job.

 

“Big Woman,” the tallest of the three Free Folk men said as he pointed at her and then to Clegane’s unconscious body, “Dog-Man.”

 

Brienne had ignored the snorts of laughter from the guards and tried to explain that the Hound was nothing to do with her and _not_ her responsibility. This didn’t really seem to help matters and the Free Folk men merely waited patiently for her to finish before tipping Clegane off their sled and onto the ground. 

 

“Big Woman help Dog-Man,” one of them grunted whilst the other two nodded in unison, “Tormund say so.”

 

Then they’d just turned around and left; leaving Brienne to deal with the drunken mess that was Sandor Clegane. He’d been too large and heavy for anyone to do much with so, in the end, Brienne had given up and got a few of the guards to help her drag him into the stables and covered him with a blanket. Brienne had brought him some broth when he’d regained consciousness only to be met with surliness and downright rudeness. 

 

“Leave me be you daft bitch!” he’d growled as he knocked the bowl clean out of her hands but Brienne was used to this type of behaviour by now and stood her ground; threatening to punch him on the nose if he spoke to her like that again.

 

It didn’t take a genius to work out that Clegane’s change in demeanor had everything to do with seeing his brother but when she had mentioned this he’d proceeded to get even more irate.

 

“What is it with you people?” he’d slurred as he pulled the blanket over his head, “Why can’t you let me drunk and miserable?”

 

“Drinking yourself into oblivion isn’t going to help you now is it?” Brienne had snapped at him as she yanked the blanket back off him, “You need to pull yourself together!”

 

“You sound like bloody Tormund,” Clegane had muttered before passing out again; snoring so loudly that the horses began to get spooked.

 

Brienne had hoped that that would be the end of it but it appeared that when the Hound wasn’t bothering the Free Folk, he had decided to become her permanent shadow. 

 

“So this is what you’ve been doing,” Clegane said as he tossed the chicken bone into a nearby corner, “Lurking outside the little Birds room.”

 

“I’m not lurking, I’m protecting her!” Brienne shot back angrily as she edged a little further away from him, “And I don’t need any help from _you_ so if you would be please leave, I would be very grateful.”

 

To make her point Brienne folded her arms across her chest and turned away; praying that the Hound would take the hint and leave her in peace. Unfortunately Clegane showed no signs of leaving and only settled himself down into a more comfortable position, much to Brienne’s annoyance. Before he’d gone off to Kings Landing and returned as Winterfell’s resident drunk, Sandor had spent most of his time following Brienne around under the false pretence that they were somehow now friends. Accidentally-not-killing someone and then having to escape from a horde of angry Free Folk with said person did not make you friends in Brienne’s opinion and it only proved that she was better off on her own. That way nobody, like innocent little children, would get hurt and she could be left in peace without having to think about all the things that were currently filling up her brain. Annoyingly, Clegane also kept asking her weird questions whenever she encountered him; such as if she could deadlift a two hundred pound log, knew how to gut a deer or how she felt about outdoor living. He also had developed a knack for catching her off guard so Brienne was eventually forced to answer and unable tell him to get lost like she normally would. 

 

“What was it like growing up in Tarth?” Clegane asked casually whilst he fished out another chicken leg from his pocket; pretending not to notice when Brienne narrowed her eyes suspiciously at him, “Did you push anyone else off a cliff whilst you were there?”

 

He gave a great snort of laughter and Brienne found that her irritation level had reached boiling point. 

 

“Firstly I didn’t push you off a cliff for no reason,” she snapped as she jabbed her finger in his face, “You’d kidnapped Arya Stark and were using her for ransom money and secondly-”

 

“For the last time, I didn’t kidnap the girl!” Clegane snarled loudly; loud enough that someone might hear them.

 

“Shush!” she hissed before he had a chance to start speaking again, “Do you want _everyone_ to know we’re here?”

 

Clegane opened his mouth to say something but seemed to think the better of it and they settled into an uncomfortable silence. However being quiet was something the Hound appeared to be incapable of doing and barely two minutes had passed before he was questioning her again.

 

“So.Tarth,” Clegane said as he interrupted Brienne’s peaceful solitude, “What’s it like down at the Sapphire Isle?”

 

Brienne gave out a loud huff of indignation which the Hound decided to ignore, and pressed on with his line of questioning.

 

“Do you get much time for whatever it is you do with yourself,” he queried even though Brienne remained resolutely silent, “When you’re not hiding outside Ladies room or wrongly accusing people of kidnap?” 

 

Whenever he asked her questions like this it always seemed like he was reading off some mentally prepared list and more than once she could have _sworn_ she saw him writing the answers down when he thought she wasn’t looking. So far Brienne had found the best way to get rid of him was to simply ignore him, which she did so whilst the Hound continued his integration. 

 

“No husband tucked away down there then?” he asked with a grin and Brienne felt her cheeks go red with embarrassment, “No one you’ve got to go home to if we survive all this mess?”

 

“Do I _look_ like I have a husband?” Brienne snapped; finally sick of his incessant prattle.

 

“Oh well I don’t know do I?” Clegane growled as he shot her an angry look; like this was all her fault, “For all _I_ know there’s another poor bastard out there you’ve taken a chunk out of!”

 

He rubbed his mangled ear gingerly and Brienne couldn’t help but smile in satisfaction. That’ll teach you to mess with me she thought to herself as she looked over at the missing chunk of ear proudly. Having half an ear missing didn’t seem to deter Clegane from his line of questioning though and Brienne found herself getting more and more annoyed. 

 

“Nobody you met out on the road then?” he queried and Brienne felt her cheeks heat up again, “Nobody take your fancy when you were off looking for the Little Bird and her sister?”

 

“There isn’t anyone!” Brienne shouted suddenly as her hands balled up into fists, “ _Nobody_ wanted to marry me ok? And there was _nobody_ out on the road. Nobody! _Now would you please be quiet_?!”

 

“All right; keep your hair on! Just making conversation,” Clegane grunted, although he did look a little abashed that he’d obviously hit a sore spot, “No need to get so narky!”

 

“Well don’t!” Brienne snapped as she folded her arms across her chest and refused to speak any further; hopefully, he’d get the hint and leave. 

 

They then sat in a stony silence for a while, neither of them looking at each other, before the Hound decided he just _had_ to start speaking again. 

 

“I think I scared the kiddies a bit,” he muttered before Brienne was able to tell him to shut up, “What with all the drink and seeing… seeing _him_ after all this time.”

 

It didn’t take a genius to work out who “him” was and Brienne watched the Hound carefully out of the corner of her eye. It was rare that he even _mentioned_ his brother and Brienne suspected that the shock of seeing him, even if the Mountain was slightly less alive then the last time he’d seen him, was the cause of Clegane’s unstoppable drink habit. However her sympathy only went so far; especially if he had frightened Solfrid and Hala.

 

“Well, you should go and apologise then!” Brienne told him sternly, “You can’t go about scaring children, no matter how bad you feel!”

 

“Oh, you mean like _you_ did you mean?” Clegane shot back at her nastily, “ _You_ couldn’t even be bothered to say thank you for that fucking coat Tormund slaved over making for you!”

 

Her face flushed in the darkness Brienne felt like her face could have lit up the entire corridor; she hadn’t reckoned on _Clegane_ knowing about the coat. A few words from Clegane and she was sure be the laughing stock of the Winterfell as she’d learned the hard way in Tarth that whenever something nice happened to her, something bad quickly followed it.  

 

“That’s none of your business,” she replied icily whilst the Hound rolled his eyes at her, “And I’d prefer it if you didn’t tell anyone else!”

 

“When are you going to get it through that _thick_ skull of yours,” he growled at her as he shook his head at her in disbelief, “There are more important things to worry about then what people think of you!”

 

He was right; not that Brienne would ever tell him that. She loved that coat and, more importantly, the thought that gone into it but having other people know about it meant that everything suddenly became so much more real. There would be looks and comments and nasty things said about her behind her back; Brienne was sure of it. How could _anyone_ give something as beautiful as that expertly handmade coat to Brienne the Beauty? Lost in her own lack of self-worth, Brienne hadn’t even realised that the Hound had started speaking again. 

 

“…All my life I’d dreamt of killing him,” he was saying softly and more to himself than Brienne, “When I was laying in my bed in agony and my father couldn’t even so much as look at me. One day I told myself… one day I’m going to get you, you great ugly bastard.”

 

Brienne stared at him; showed that he would reveal so much to her even if it wasn't intentional. Of course she had heard stories but it was different hearing it straight from Clegane’s mouth. 

 

“You’ll get your revenge,” Brienne told him firmly; her mind going back to when she had forcibly removed Stannis Baratheon’s head from his neck.

 

“What’s the point?” Clegane spat as the anger started to rise in his voice, “I wanted him to know it was _me_! To know that it was little mangled Sandor that drove the sword clean into his gut. Whatever’s left inside of that fucker doesn’t even recognise me.”

 

Brienne didn’t really know what to say to that; her desire to kill Stannis had almost consumed her but she couldn’t deny how _good_ it felt knowing that he was dead by her hand. Her only regret was not having made the pain last longer but she wasn’t a barbarian; she had some standards. Then she was lost in bad memories; specifically the look of shock on Renly’s face when that black shadow and drove a sword through his heart.

 

“She’s all right you know, that little kiddie,” the Hound said gruffly as he picked bits of chicken out of his teeth, “Made me tell her what it was like looking after that prick Joffery. Told her I wouldn’t have minded chopping his head off and shoving it on one of those pikes he was always so excited about.”

 

Brienne frowned; that sounded like a terrible story to tell a child!

 

“That’s hardly an appropriate story for a child,” she scolded whilst Clegane rolled his eyes once more and let out a loud huff, “You could have given her nightmares!” 

 

“Oh for god’s sake woman; she was fine!” Clegane grumbled whilst Brienne seriously considered punching him in the nose, “A bit of blood and guts never hurt anyone! Anyway, seemed like the gorier the better; liked it when I told her about gutting those soldiers that were after the Little Birds sister.” 

 

“She spoke to you?” Brienne asked in surprise; more than a little hurt that Hala had chosen the Hound, of all people, to speak to first.

 

“Well no, but you get the jist of what she’s after or that sister of hers will pester you until you give in,” he admitted before putting on a high pitched, childlike voice, “Tell us a story Mr. Dog! Tell us a story!”

 

There was no malice in his voice when he spoke and Brienne was certain he had become just as fond of the two girls as she had. 

 

“I wish there was some way to get her to talk,” Brienne said quietly, “I thought of asking the Maester but I didn't think Tormund would agree.”

 

“Why does she need to talk?” Clegane grumbled through another mouthful of chicken; spraying little bits of flesh onto Brienne’s clean cloak.

 

“Didn’t anyone ever teach you any manners?” Brienne snapped as she brushed the mess off her boots, “And of _course_ she needs to talk! What if something happens to her or she needs help?”

 

“Plenty of people talk too much,” Clegane said with a shrug of his huge shoulders, “People say all kinds of meaningless shit. Better off staying quiet until you’ve got something to say that’s worth saying.”

 

“But what if something she gets attacked?” Brienne argued further; frustrated with the Hounds lack of urgency at the situation, “Or lost _or_ worse?!”

 

“I’d dare say she make her voice heard,” the Hound replied as he became more preoccupied with picking chicken out of his teeth, “Just give her time; that’s what Tormund said.”

 

“I suppose so,” Brienne said with a sigh; it just felt strangely personal that Hala _still_ wouldn’t speak in her presence.

 

“After I got this,” Clegane said abruptly as he pointed to the mangled half of his face, “I don’t think I spoke to anyone for over a year.”

 

Brienne stared at him; she’d _never_ heard Clegane speak so openly about what had happened to him as a child or make any reference to his disfigurement. Part of her wished he would stop talking so that she would stop thinking that he wasn’t so bad after all, and that perhaps she wouldn’t mind him being her friend. 

 

“Really?” she asked him warily; worried that his temper might come back in full force, “Not even to tell someone what had really happened?”

 

“What was there to say? That my brother shoved my face into the fire like a piece of meat? No, even if they did believe me what good would it have done?” the Hound scoffed and Brienne could almost feel his anger wrapping around her, “Gregor was already bigger and stronger than half then men in our village. If my own _father_ wasn’t going to do anything then what hope did I have?”

 

“I’m sorry,” Brienne said quietly even though she wasn’t entirely sure what she was saying sorry for; it just felt like the right thing to do.

 

“What’ve you got to be sorry for? You didn’t do it did you?” Clegane grumbled as he fiddled with the chicken bone in his hand, “Keep your head down and keep quiet. That way you hear stuff that others don’t. Most people aren’t even listening to you anyway. There just waiting for you to shut up so they can start talking again. I bet that little ginger knows more about what goes on than half the people in this shit hole. Probably been through worse than having a rock thrown at her head at any rate.”

 

“It shouldn’t have happened in the first place!” Brienne burst out angrily, “It was _my_ fault to bring Robin in the first place!”

 

“Oh for god sake Tarth!” the Hound grumbled whilst Brienne stewed quietly in the corner, “Haven’t you been listening to anything I just said?!”

 

“Of course I’ve been listening,” Brienne hissed back at him as her temperature began to boil over, “Why do you think I’m out _here_ every bloody night?”

 

“You’re only out here because you feel guilty about the Little Bird,” he shot back at her, “ _And_ it’s a convenient excuse for you not to go down to that camp!”

 

“I’m not making excuses!” Brienne snapped back, her face flushing a little, “I’m just being… realistic.”

 

“Whatever,” Clegane grunted as he went back to picking his teeth in a very uncouth manner, “You keep telling yourself that if it makes you feel better.”

 

“When did you get so insightful?” Brienne sulked; she hadn’t realised it was so obvious that she had been hiding up at Winterfell rather than go and see Tormund.

 

“When I stopped letting people tell me what to do,” the Hound informed her, “Maybe you should try it sometime.”

 

Brienne glared at him and a frosty silence descended upon them once again; leaving her to mull over what he’d just said wishing that he would just leave her alone. It was almost daylight now anyway and Brienne couldn’t stay outside Lady Sansa’s room forever. At least going back her room would finally rid her of the Hound but for the time being she would just have to pretend that he wasn't here. Unfortunately this proved to be rather difficult as Clegane was back to questioning her once again. 

 

“You fought anything else besides a bear then? Wolf perhaps?” he asked jovially as he nudged her hard in the ribs, “Or are you saving yourself to go head to head with that silver-haired midget’s dragons?”

 

“Will you shut up!” Brienne shouted as she shoved him away from her; massaging her likely already bruised ribs..

 

“I’m only asking because T-” Clegane started to say but then abruptly stopped before carrying on as if nothing had happened; Brienne narrowing her eyes at him suspiciously, “I’m only asking because we’re fighting on the same side now and it might be nice to get to know each other before we both die and get turned into one of those _things_ we dragged back!”

 

Irritatingly he had a point and, as much as he annoyed her, she wouldn't want the Hound to get turned into a White Walker. Nor did she fancy dying alone but given her current circumstances that seemed all the more likely to come to pass.

 

“Fine. No, I haven't fought any other creature besides a bear. Happy now?” Brienne relented begrudgingly, “Just _stop_ with all these ridiculous questions will you? And don’t mention the White Walkers; those things give me the creeps.”

 

“You and me both,” the Hound admitted as he surpassed a small shudder, “You know I’ve spent a lot of time with the Free Folk; heard stories about ice spiders as big as wolves, giants that could rip you in half and a monstrous squid that roams the frozen sea and they make it sound like it’s something they’ve seen on holiday; like it’s fucking normal. You mention the White Walkers though and it’s like this… _presence_ descends down on them. Then you realise that that army is full of people they _know_ , people they love, people they watched die only to be brought back to life. I fucking hope that doesn't happen to any of us; you’d be a fucking nightmare as a White Walker.”

 

Brienne laughed despite herself; perhaps the Hound wasn't _so_ bad after all. The sun was beginning to rise now and Brienne sat there with Clegane in a far more comfortable silence than before; mulling his words over in her head. It must be horrible to know that it was your own family, friends and loved ones that were slowly dragging themselves towards you. The sound of a door slamming from the servants quarters signalled that it was time for her to leave her post.

 

“Right. Well. It was nice seeing you but I’m sure breakfast will be being served now so…” Brienne trailed off as she rose to her feet, her legs stiff from sitting on the floor for so long, and started to walk away from him without waiting for a response.

 

“I’ll go with you,” Clegane burst out and practically ran after Brienne just as she was making her way down the stairs. 

 

Regrettably, the staircases at Winterfell were rather narrow and Brienne ended up wedged against the wall, her face in Clegane’s armpit, as she tried to push him away from her. This didn't seem to do much other than get her even more tangled up in Clegane’s ridiculous long legs; the stench of the Hound’s body oder almost knocking her out.

 

“ _What are you doing_?” she hissed as the stench of unwashed male flesh almost made her retch once again and the Hounds foot collided painfully with the back of her leg.

 

“Walking!” Clegane snapped as he tried to untangle himself, “Or I would be if _you_ hadn’t got in the way!”

 

After a few minutes of back and forth bickering, Brienne finally managed to free herself and practically ran down the corridor; the Hound shouting swearwords at her from the staircase. Cursing herself for waisting so much time with him _and_ missing her breakfast, Brienne hurried through the corridors to see if she could find Lady Sansa. Being a solitary person, though not entirely by choice, it was difficult having someone loitering around you twenty-four seven. Once she made sure that Clegane wasn't going to follow her after all, Brienne made her way outside into the courtyard. Winterfell was really starting to come alive now as the occupants went about their daily chores; most of which included securing the food stores so they didn't all starve before the White Walkers made it past the Wall. Interestingly three large hay bales with targets painted on them had been propped up at the far end, just past the stables. Brienne was walking past when a group of young Northern boys burst out of out the Great Hall and ran excitedly towards the targets; pushing and shoving each other as they went. Nobody seemed to be in charge of them and Brienne was about to tell them to stop throwing snowballs at each other and upsetting the horse's when someone called out her name.

 

“BRIENNE!” 

 

It was Lady Sansa; her face already breaking into a huge smile when she saw Brienne and came hurrying towards her. For a moment Brienne just stood there as Dream Sansa bubbled to the surface of her mind and her cheek stung with phantom pain. That pretty, pale face twisted into a harsh and hateful visage was all she could think about and Brienne couldn’t help but flinch as the Lady of Winterfell made her way towards her. Sansa's gloved hand moved quickly from the inside of her cloak and Brienne almost though she was going to be struck again or shouted at, but Sansa just held up her hand and waved at her; her long hair fanning out elegantly behind her. 

 

“There you are I’ve been looking for you everywhere!” Sansa said briskly as she tugged the hem of her long cloak out from a particularly large patch of snow, “I was just about - Brienne? Are you all right?” 

 

Reaching out, her touch was feather soft when she lightly placed her hand on Brienne’s arm; concern spreading across her lovely, pale face. In the warm light of day it felt silly to be frightened of someone who had only ever been kind to her and allowed her into her home. Placing her hand over Sansa’s for a brief moment she even managed to give her Lady a weak smile.

 

“I’m fine My Lady,” Brienne replied as she gave a short bow in an attempt to brush past the awkwardness, “How may I be of service to you today?”

 

Sansa studied Brienne’s face for a moment, clearly unconvinced that nothing was amiss, but ultimately decided against pushing the matter. It must have shown on her face how unsettled she was still and Brienne forced her features to remain neutral; there was no pint in dredging the silly nightmare business up. She would probably be declared unfit for duty, Little Finger would _love_ that, and be put out to pasture. However Sansa was still looking at her with an expression that could only be described as fondness and the knot in Brienne’s chest loosened a little as she followed Sansa to the edge of the courtyard. 

 

“Would you take a walk with me?” Sansa asked as she indicated towards the stone steps that led up to the battlements, “Please?”

 

“Of course My Lady,” Brienne replied; her curiosity peeked as Sansa gave her another encouraging smile.

 

The snow had turned to mush on the steps and Brienne braced herself should Sansa slip over in the unforgiving terrain. She needn’t have worried because the girl skipped up the steps with an agility that Brienne could only dream of. The amount of people lessened with every step they took and it was becoming clearer that the lady of Winterfell had chosen this spot to be out of earshot from anyone that could be listening. Brienne sent out a little prayer of hope that that meant Little Finger’s scheming hadn’t gone unnoticed by Sansa and that his cards were already marked. Perhaps she would allow Brienne to push him off the battlements? Unlikely but a girl can dream can’t she? Once they made it to the top, Brienne followed silently as Sansa continued walking along the battlements; abruptly stopping at a place in the middle. The snow was thicker up here and Sansa brushed a handful of the stuff off the low stone wall and rested her forearms on the parapet; staring out at the snow-covered fields and beyond. Brienne watched her apprehensively for a while but Sansa remained where she was and waited quietly for Brienne to stand alongside her. 

 

“Some of the Wildling children are coming up to Winterfell to train with Ser Attwell and some boys from the neighboring houses,” Sansa explained and suddenly the targets in the courtyard and the raucous gang of boys made a lot more sense, “Even _I_ know he’s useless so I said that you would lend a hand.”

 

Brienne frowned; Ser Bradley Attwell was a pompous old knight who had bored everyone rigid with stories of the great battles he’d fought during Robert’s Rebellion. It all seemed rather far-fetched and ludicrous Brienne’s opinion but when she had pointed out that the Knight Attwell claimed to have slain had been dead for over a hundred years, he became suspiciously deaf and pretended not to hear her. Attwell was also somewhat of a chauvinist pig and had laughed rudely when Brienne had simply informed him he had his sword fastened in the incorrect position. Whilst spending the afternoon with Ser Attwell wasn’t exactly high on Brienne’s list of ideas for a good time, that wasn’t what was causing her cheeks to redden.  

 

“The Free Folk My Lady?” she queried as her face began to colour, “I didn’t think that they would want to come back here after…”

 

Brienne trailed off; unwilling to draw even _more_ attention to her failed attempt at trying to educate Robin Arryn in the ways of human decency. 

 

“You need to stop blaming yourself for that,” Sansa told her sternly, her head tilted to the side as she regarded Brienne with interest, “I presume he didn’t tell you about the time when I struck him across the face?”

 

“Lady Sansa!” Brienne gasped but Sansa only grinned mischievously at her; a trace of the young girl that once was shining through for a moment.

 

“He deserved it,” she shrugged as she brushed a few flecks of snow from her cloak before continuing darkly, “The little beast trampled all over my Winterfell snow castle.” 

 

“I daresay he did,” Brienne said; wishing all the more that she could have given Robin Arryn a slap or two as well.

 

“He kept talking about that _stupid_ moon door,” Sansa muttered as her eyes glowered slightly, “ _And_ he made fun of Winterfell. Another idiotic person I was to be married off too, like some old cart mule.”

 

Brienne couldn’t hide the displeasure that flew across her face; who on _earth_ were they going to try and marry her off to next?! Sansa was Lady of Winterfell now and Brienne prayed that she wouldn’t be forced into another brutal marriage that only suited the men around her. At least Brienne didn’t have to worry about ridiculous proposals of marriage anymore, or _any_ kind of proposal really. If she died in her duty to protect the Stark sisters then so be it; at least she wouldn’t have some old letch pawing over her whilst she did so. 

 

“Jon said that Wildlings weren’t even angry, well not at you anyway,” Sansa said as she turned back to look out of the snow-covered farmland, “So you need to stop worrying and think about how fun it will be to show everyone how much of an idiot Ser Attwell really is.”

 

She laughed brightly and continued to list all the ways in which Brienne could show the old knight up but Brienne was only half listening. It was highly unlikely that the Free Folk wouldn’t hold her at least partially to blame for what happened and whilst Sansa may not blame her for causing injury to a small child, Brienne certainly did. However Sansa didn’t need to be burdened with all her internal turmoil and Brienne sort of grunted a response as the conversation moved back to the Free Folk children. 

 

“Tormund will be bringing the children up,” Sansa said as she raised her eyebrow at Brienne, who instantly turned bright red, “He’s got to be here to talk about Eastwatch anyway and it’ll be nice to see him again, won’t it?”

 

“Yes,” was all Brienne could stutter out as she desperately tried to stop herself from turning even more red, “Very…ugh… Nice.” 

 

Oh dear; she hadn’t expected to be faced with Tormund quite so suddenly! Panic quickly settled in and Brienne instantly began to fret about just what on _earth_ she was going to say to him. Little fingers plot to get rid of her just seemed _far_ too complicated to explain and Brienne would probably only end up sounding like she’d lost her mind. It was downright rude to just accept a gift and not even come and say thank you and her excuses began to feel stupider by the minute. She’d given Little Finger too much power over her, Brienne realised that now, and she should have trusted that Lady Sansa would not have allowed her to be sent away. Sansa meanwhile was carrying on as if Brienne was actually contributing something useful to the conversation, and not grunting out one-word syllables. 

 

“… said that they were really excited to come up and see Winterfell. It must be strange, mustn’t it? Living out in all that snow and then coming here. Ser Davos told me that…”

 

Brienne was barely listening to her; she was too busy running through every possible worst case scenario in her mind. What if Tormund shouted at her in front of everyone? Yelled that she was stupid, irresponsible and that he hated her? _Or_ what if he asked for the coat back? No; Tormund wasn’t like that but it would be understandable if he wasn’t at least a little bit hurt that Brienne hadn’t come to say thank you after all the hard work he’d put into making the coat special for her.  

 

“…It makes me nervous; thinking of all those people out in the snow whilst we’re all safe inside the walls…”

 

Perhaps Brienne could make something for him? Exactly what she had no idea and, much to the annoyance of her father, Brienne had never spent much time in Septa Roelle’s sewing class. She could just about patch up the holes in her clothes and anything more extravagant had always been entrusted to Pod. Perhaps the offer of giving the girls a tour of Winterfell would be a better option? That’s if Tormund even _brings_ Solfrid and Hala with him and didn’t leave them in the safety of the Free Folk camp and away from silly Southern’s who cause them injury.

 

“Brienne? Brienne are you sure you’re all right?”

 

Brienne startled and found Sansa eyeing her worriedly; her eyebrows knitted together in concern. Oh dear…  

 

“Sorry,” Brienne said as she recovered quickly from her little daydream, “I was just thinking of… safety precautions.”

 

It was rather a lame cover story and Sansa was giving her a look as if to say she didn’t really believe her so Brienne straightened up a little.

 

“Lady Sansa I apologise,” she said with as much rigid formality as she could muster, “You were saying?”  

 

“I said I like him, Tormund I mean,” Sansa said conversationally and Brienne instantly went red again, “It’s nice to have another redhead around at any rate. And he makes Jon laugh which is no mean feat!”

 

Brienne made another noncommittal grunt even though she was _bursting_ to say that although still red-haired, Tormund’s was an entirely different shade from Sansa’s dark auburn. Tormund’s was a scorching fiery red that looked burning to the touch. It reminded Brienne of the burnt orange sunset’s of Tarth; capturing the light in vibrant ruby hues…

 

“…It sounds silly, childish even, but I always rather liked having matching hair with mother,” Sansa was saying unaware that Brienne wasn’t paying attention to her again, “Arya and Jon always look so brooding with that dark hair of theirs…”

 

Tormund’s hair was as wild as the jungle; untameable and unruly…Brienne wondered what it would feel like to run her fingers through it…

 

“Brienne?” Sansa called, sounding very far away, and Brienne was still stuck in her daydream.   

 

“Huh?” she replied vaguely; her mind still on Tormund’s hair.

 

“You went all funny again,” Sansa informed her and Brienne felt her face flush for what felt like the millionth time today, “Are you _sure_ you’re all right?”

 

The heat continued to blossom along Brienne cheeks; creeping down her neck and onto her chest. The notion that Sansa could have somehow known just _exactly_ what had been distracting her was sending Brienne into a wild panic. No, that was silly, but Brienne couldn’t help but fidget awkwardly whilst Sansa continued to give her a look that suggested that she’d lost her mind. 

 

“I’m fine,” Brienne blurted out as she tried to steer the conversation away from a certain wild-haired Wildling, “I’m terribly sorry Lady Sansa, you were saying?” 

 

Sansa raised her eyebrow slightly, giving her a knowing smile, and Brienne felt herself begin to sweat with nerves. Interestingly, she didn’t feel mocked or belittled. Not like when she’d been a young, foolish girl and Gabrielle Fairburn had found out about the crush Brienne been harbouring on the ridiculously handsome stable boy, Sam, and told _everyone_. Gabrielle and her gang of girls had teased Brienne about that for weeks and to the point where Brienne had been too embarrassed to even go anywhere near the stables. 

 

“You need to aim a bit lower Brienne,” Gabrielle had trilled as she swished her long chestnut coloured hair about in a way that made all the boys, including Sam, stare at her, “Maybe start with the blind baker's boy and go from there?”

 

After that Brienne had kept any girlish crushes she’d had to herself and ploughed all her energy into becoming a master swordswomen; thinking of how silly all the others girls were when they flocked together to whisper about boys. Truth be told Brienne had always _wished_ she’d had someone to talk to about boys, or men rather, because now she felt completely and utterly adrift. Sansa would probably know how to initiate a conversation without looking and sounding like an idiot, but it was wildly inappropriate for Brienne to ask her such things. Sansa was Lady Stark of Winterfell; not some tavern wench.  

 

“You know you can talk to me about… stuff,” Sansa coaxed and Brienne was suddenly struck by just how _lonely_ the girl sounded. There weren’t many other women in Winterfell for Sansa to talk too and Arya seemed more interested in killing things than boys.

 

Brienne hesitated for a moment; desperately wondering if she should tell Sansa about the coat and her general lack of knowledge when it came to anything regarding the male gender. Stab them with a sword? Fine. Beat them to a bloody pulp and push them off a cliff? No problem. However, saying thank you for a gift and asking Tormund if he wouldn’t mind spending the day with her seemed to be completely outside of her capabilities. 

 

“Brienne? _Is_ there something?” Sansa asked hopefully; sounding so much like the young girl who should have never left Winterfell and believed that she’d one day fall in love with a handsome Prince, “You can tell me anything.”

 

“No, My Lady,” Brienne said as she tried to ignore the disappointment in Sansa’s eyes, “No there is not.”

 

“Ok,” Sansa sighed and Brienne could tell she wasn’t entirely convinced, “But if there ever _is_ anything then promise you’ll come to me? Day or night.”

 

“I promise,” Brienne said before she could stop herself even though she knew she wasn’t about to rouse Lady Sansa from her bed, just to talk about her potential crush on Tormund.

 

Sansa gave her a brief nod before she turned her attentions back to the snow-covered lands that stretched out far below them. The wind was really biting into her skin this high up and Brienne couldn’t help but shiver; pulling her cloak even tighter around herself and shifting from foot to foot in an attempt to warm herself up. 

 

“It’s sad isn’t it?” Sansa murmured as she stared out into the distance and Brienne was left wondering if _this_ was the spot where Sansa had made her escape from and jumped into the abyss, “Training children how to fight, how to kill. Arming children with knives and swords just seems wrong somehow.”

 

“It’s better to have a blade and not need it, than to need one and not have it,” Brienne informed her carefully, “The children will be in perfectly safe hands, as are you My Lady.”

 

Unbeknown to Sansa, or anyone else in Winterfell, tucked snugly against the small of Brienne’s back was a leather-bound knife. It was just a small blade, barely bigger than her palm, but it had served Brienne well over the years and could do some serious damage if used in the right way. Brienne had kept it hidden on her person, along with the knife she kept strapped to the inside of her leg, ever since she had safely returned Lady Sansa to Winterfell; agonising over whether it was appropriate to give it to her. There might come a time when Brienne wouldn’t be with her and above all she just wanted Sansa to be safe. It was unrealistic to think that Brienne could be with her every second of every day, as much as she wanted to. Besides, she might sleep easier at night knowing that Sansa had some way to defend herself should she need to. The slightly haunted look that passed over Sansa’s face as she eyed the ridge of the battlements made Brienne’s decision all the more easier.

 

“A gift My Lady,” she said as she removed the knife from its hiding place and pressed it tightly into Sansa’s hands, “Something to keep you safe should you need it.”

 

Sansa stared at her for a moment, her face like a mask of marble, and Brienne was beginning to regret her decision until Sansa moved quickly towards her.

 

“ _No one_ must know you’ve given this to me!” Sansa whispered hurriedly as she bridged the gap between them as if to shield them both from view, “ _No one_! Not even Arya.”

 

“You have my word My Lady,” Brienne replied solemnly and Sansa clutched the knife tightly to her chest, “Do you know how to use it?”

 

“Stick them with the pointy end,” Sansa said as she looked over the knife with interest, “Arya told me that.”

 

That sounded _exactly_ like something Arya would say Brienne thought to herself with a smile.

 

“Aim low,” she explained as she unsheathed the knife and demonstrated how to hold the blade properly, “Get them in the gut then go for the chest or the neck. Catch the main artery and the bastard will bleed to death before he can even touch you.”

 

Sansa nodded, following Brienne’s movements with her eyes, and smiled politely; pretending that she didn’t know _exactly_ which bastard Brienne was talking about. 

 

“Keep it hidden on you at all times,” Brienne instructed as she wrapped the blade carefully back up, “You can attach it underneath your robes with this strap here.”

 

She pointed out the piece of leather and then the buckle that would ensure that Sansa could keep her new weapon on her without anyone noticing. After a few more brief instructions, she finally handed the blade over to Sansa and the weapon disappeared seamlessly beneath her robes; almost like it was never there at all. 

 

“Thank you Brienne,” she said as she grasped hold of Brienne with her warm, soft hands, “You do more than your oath requires.”

 

Brienne opened her mouth to speak and to explain that she could _never_ do enough when a loud crunch of snow underfoot from behind them startled her. Turning around, both Brienne and Sansa let an audible huff of annoyance when they saw who it was that was walking towards them.

 

“Lady Sansa,” Little Finger called out; his small eyes swivelling between the pair of them, “I was told I might find you up here.”

 

The muscle in Sansa’s jaw tensed for the briefest of moments and Brienne wondered how much of her little demonstration he’d been privy too. It would just be her luck that Lord Baelish would try and oust her from Winterfell by telling everyone she had weaponised the Lady of Winterfell. 

 

“Lord Baelish,” Sansa said as she inexplicably beamed back at him and cast her hand in the direction of the battlements, “I was giving Brienne a history lesson.”

 

“A history lesson My Lady?” he asked as he studied her face but Sansa had already closed herself off like she often did; becoming unreadable to everyone including Brienne. 

“Yes,” Sansa said with a bite of contention in her voice, “How Lady Stark of Winterfell took the hand of the traitor Theon Greyjoy and jumped without knowing if she’d be dead before she landed. Or if anyone would come to her aid once she hit the snowy ground.”

 

There was an awkward pause; Sansa had never spoken so openly about her time with the Bolton's or how she had made her escape. It was clear to Brienne by the look on Little Fingers face that he didn’t want Sansa mentioning the Bolton’s or how she’d had to fling herself off the battlements, all because he had sold her to a psychotic rapist. 

 

“Sansa,” Lord Baylish said with a hint of a warning in his voice as he took a step towards her, “Perhaps this isn’t the time to be going over old history. Lady Brienne wouldn’t like to know that she’d upset you now would she?”

 

Brienne gave him a very cold look; trust Little Finger to twist the horror that _he_ had created into something that was Brienne’s fault.

 

“It’s Lady Stark thank you,” Sansa replied icily as she folded her arms across her chest, “And Brienne has _not_ upset me, not in the least. Considering she was my rescuer I thought she ought to know how I came to be trapped and shivering in the snow.”

 

“Of course, _Lady_ Stark,” he replied with a quick bow of the head, “I’m sure Lady Brienne is very grateful to have been made aware of the situation. Forgive my intrusion but there are matters I must discuss with you. Your Sister…the Targaryen girl. Lady Brienne if you wouldn’t mind excusing us?”

 

He smiled at her but it didn't quite reach his eyes and he moved back in an exaggerated manner; making it plain that Brienne was no longer wanted. Brienne glanced at Sansa who smiled warmly at her and nodded in the direction of the stairs, much to Little Finger’s delight.

 

“We’ll talk later Brienne,” Sansa said pointedly and Brienne had no choice but to leave; sweeping past a grinning Little Finger on her way down from the battlements.

 

Brienne’s head was a swirling mass of thoughts as she made her way down the icy stone steps and back into the courtyard; almost bumping into one of the servants she was so preoccupied. A large part of her wanted to seek Sansa out sometime later that day to unburden herself onto the poor girl with all her confused feelings. She was beginning to regret thinking how stupid all the girls of her youth had been when they flocked together to dissect every movement a boy made towards them. Perhaps if she had paid more attention to them and not thrown herself into sword training then she would have a better idea of how to handle her current situation. However, the more rational part of brain told her that this was a _ridiculous_ idea and that Lady Sansa clearly had more pressing matters to attend to then Brienne’s potentially-not-quite-love-life. There was nothing else for it; she would just have to swallow her pride and go down to the Free Folk camp and apologise to Tormund in person. A simple apology couldn’t go that badly, could it? Well, it could go _very_ badly in Brienne’s case and she had a rather bad case of foot-in-mouth when it came to apologising; she always ended up saying the wrong thing or looking like a foolish idiot. To make matters worse, Brienne was incapable of controlling how red she went in these types of situations and her cheeks were already starting to heat up. Even _thinking_ about seeing Tormund again made her stomach twist about in knots and her skin clammy and sweaty. What if she was rejected or Tormund laughed at her like everyone else always seemed to? Or what if, the more horrible part of her brain thought, the coat was just all one massive joke at her expense? 

 

In her youth one of the young Sers had presented her with a beautiful bouquet of flowers during one of her father’s tourneys and Brienne, stupidly, had been instantly besotted. Ser Lysander was the most _beautiful_ boy she’d ever seen at the time; with his dark curly hair, piercing blue eyes and rosebud lips. He’d smiled at her the way nobody _ever_ had and Brienne’s hand had been shaking so much when she took the flowers that she’d almost dropped them. Every day the flowers came; more and more until her bedroom was fit to bursting with the luscious scent of roses. The servant’s had whispered to each other that at last _someone_ was taking an interest in Brienne the Beauty whenever they carted in another huge bunch of flowers in but she hadn’t cared. For once the cruel jibes washed over Brienne like a coo, summer’s rain. Ser Lysander was everything Brienne had ever _dreamed_ of and she had gotten positively giddy every time he’d thrown a seductive glance her way. Over time Brienne had tended to those flowers like a mother would do to a sickly child and insisted on keeping them; even when they were dried and wilting all over the floor. Then the note came and the promise of a secret nighttime meeting down by the apple orchard and Brienne could _still_ remember the excitement she felt as she made her way through the trees in the dark. Ser Lysander had been waiting for her looking exceptionally dashing and dressed in a dark green tunic and breaches that only highlighted his beauty. Brienne hadn’t even bothered to hide her delight as he handed her yet _another_ beautiful bouquet of flowers. Then he’d taken her by the hand and pulled her towards him; brushing her hair away as he leaned in close to her cheek.

 

“There should be at least _one_ thing of beauty in Tarth,” he’d cruelly whispered in her ear as the penny finally dropped and a great chorus of laughter rang out from behind the trees. 

 

A group of boys had materialised out from the apple trees, slapping Ser Lysander on the back and congratulating him on such a good “joke”. The way her cheeks had burned with shame was something that Brienne had never forgotten nor how she ran all the way home; throwing herself onto her bed and crying noisily to herself for hours. Even all these years later it _still_ stung at just how _stupid_ she’d been and how she should have _known_ better because of course, no boy would _ever_ want her. The only time boys ever paid attention to Brienne was to make her part of some cruel trick or to mock her relentlessly for the way she looked. It only seemed to get worse as she got older and made her way out into the world; men were often intimidated by her prowess with a sword. Tormund wasn’t like that though, she was sure of it, and Brienne felt guilty for ever thinking otherwise. He wasn’t trying to trick her or make fun of her when he gave her that coat. It was just that a boy, or rather a man, being nice to her simply because they liked her was something that Brienne hadn’t quite gotten her head around yet. That didn’t mean she could just ignore him though and Brienne resolved to make amends with him before the week was out and she would readily admit that she was _desperate_ to see those girls again. 

 

The thick snow from the night before was already giving way to slush as the inhabitants of Winterfell went about their business and Brienne was just thinking she might go for a ride to clear her head, when the two of the guards nearby sprang into action. 

 

“OPEN THE GATE!” one of the guards bellowed and Brienne tuned around just in time to see the huge, heavy gates of Winterfell being pulled open and Tormund strolling through them carrying a small child; a gaggle of children at his heels. 

 

Time seemed to stand still and Brienne stood there, frozen, whilst her cheeks started to burn and her stomach practically did a backflip; she hadn’t expected Tormund to arrive at Winterfell so soon! Sansa hadn’t specified an exact time or date and now Brienne was berating herself for not bothering to ask when the training might be. She still needed time to figure out how to apologise properly for her bad manners without sounding like an idiot _and_ plan out some suitable topics of conversation. It was cowardly but Brienne wasn’t about to speak about something so personal in front half the occupants of Winterfell, and she became even _more_ flustered as she tried to decide what to do. Nobody knew about the coat; it was special and ultimately something Brienne wanted to keep only to herself for the time being. Tormund hadn’t spotted her yet and was preoccupied with making sure all the children made it through the gate so Brienne did what all girls when faced with a not-so-unrequited-crush do; she hid. Throwing herself behind a huge wooden pillar next to the stables, Brienne watched as Tormund waited for the last small child to scramble in after him. Huge and tall as he was, it was rather sweet to see Tormund surrounded by such tiny children and they obeyed his every command as he instructed them to line up behind him. 

 

“CLOSE THE GATE!” the guard bellowed and the huge doors were being pushed closed once again. 

 

Brienne peered out quickly from behind her pillar and was met with the sight of Dim Dalba at the bottom of the snowy track that led up to Winterfell. Standing next to him was another group of Free Folk children who stubbornly refused to move no; matter how much he shouted at them. The gate shut with a loud thud and Brienne quickly retreated back behind her pillar as Tormund removed his hood with one hand whilst still retaining a tight hold of the child he’d been carrying. From this far away Brienne couldn’t tell if it was Hala or Solfrid or either of them he was carrying but she assumed the two girls must be with him somewhere; they never strayed too far from their father’s side. A thick dusting of snow covered Tormund’s head but even that did little to stop the coppery hues of his hair from shining through. Maybe it was because she’d gone so long without seeing him, but it felt like his hair was even more vibrant than usual and Brienne couldn’t help but feel comforted by the sight of it. His cheeks were a little flushed but Brienne couldn’t tell if that was from the long walk up here or the cold wind that was currently slicing its way through Winterfell. As usual, Tormund was bundled up in his thick fur coat, fur trousers and snow boots, as did all the Free Folk children who were huddled around him like a group of ducklings. Neither of the guards made any effort to announce their presence and were loitering in the entrance way instead of directing Tormund to where the children’s training would occur. To make matters worse, everyone in the courtyard had stopped what they were doing, the blacksmith had even stopped halfway shooing a horse, to gawk at Tormund and the children. Brienne was used to be stared at or pretending not to notice when people nudged each other in the ribs and pointed at her when she walked past, but that didn’t stop her from being thoroughly annoyed. Apparently being tall was a big deal these days and a few of the washerwomen were even craning their heads and standing on their wash baskets to get a better look at the assembled Free Folk.

 

“… bunch of savages, who let them in?” one of the baker boys hissed to his friend as they carried a barrel of flour past Brienne on their way into the storeroom. It wasn’t said loud enough for Tormund to hear him though; the boy clearly wasn’t brave enough for that.

 

Surprisingly Tormund didn’t seem the slightest bit bothered by the stares as he ushered the children ahead of him and removed the hood of the child he was holding and to Brienne’s great delight it was Hala. Her excitement quickly faded and a cold chill ran through her as she recalled the sharp sound of Hala crying out in pain when Robin’s rock had struck her on the forehead.  Even from way over here Brienne could see the vivid bruise on the girls forehead and she retreated even further behind her pillar; shame and guilt churning in her stomach. To make matters worse, Hala didn’t look all that enthusiastic about being at Winterfell and buried her head into the side of Tormund’s neck. He patted her comfortingly on the back and said something quietly to her but she just shook her head and nestled in deeper. Her hair had been braided into two long plaits and even from her vantage point from behind the pillar; Brienne could see that they were slightly wonky. Evidently she had been too small to make her way through the heavy snow that covered the track up to Winterfell but even when Tormund tried to put her down onto the relatively snow-free ground, Hala clung onto him and refused to be put down. It must be so _strange_ for her, to come from a nomadic way of life to the hustle and bustle of Winterfell Brienne thought as she watched Hala warily take in her new surroundings. Tormund didn’t seem to mind her determination to stay firmly above ground and instead hoisted her up so she was sitting high up on his shoulders. On the plus side, one of the guards had _finally_ gone off to announce their arrival and the servants had all gone back to their work; many of them still eyeing Tormund like he might suddenly run at them and attack. If he was bothered by the looks he didn’t show it and Brienne felt slightly jealous that she was unable to do the same. It already felt like a lost opportunity to go out to speak to Tormund now and Brienne ended up crouching down lower behind her pillar. The Free Folk children were still waiting patiently in a line when one of the smaller ones broke free and grabbed hold of Tormund’s hand. It was impossible to tell if it was a girl or boy due to the thick, fur hood covering the child’s face so Brienne crept forward so she could listen in; feeling more foolish by the minute that she was hiding.

 

“Is this _really_ Winterfell?” Solfrid was asking as she pulled her hood back and peered out from behind Tormund’s legs.

 

The excitement that had filled her voice when questioning Brienne about Winterfell seemed to have evaporated now she was actually here. Upsettingly she looked more frightened than anything else and when one of the young kitchen boys accidentally dropped a barrel full of grain, the noise sent her scurrying for cover behind her father. The rest of the children quickly followed suit and jostled for an adequate hiding place behind Tormund’s legs.  

 

“More like Winter Hell,” Tormund muttered as he tried to encourage Solfrid and the rest of her friends from out from behind him but they were all extremely reluctant to move.

 

“I don’t like it here daddy,” Solfrid fretted; sounding small and frightened as she clung on to Tormund’s leg, “It’s dirty and it smells.”

 

Solfrid didn’t seem nearly as confident as she did back in her own camp and Brienne’s heart broke a little at how afraid she seemed. It was _supposed_ to have been a fun trip where Brienne could show off all the animals and the other interesting things to be found at Winterfell. Perhaps Solfrid and her friends wouldn’t have been nearly as afraid if Brienne had swallowed her pride and gone down to the camp days ago; she could have prepared them for how different Winterfell was compared to the Free Folk way of life.  

 

“There’s nothing to be frightened of,” Tormund told her as he tried to reassure his daughter and pull her out from behind him at the same time, “It’s just like our tent but bigger and with animals; I thought you wanted to see the horses?”

 

He was beginning to struggle now as Hala had wrapped her little arms tightly around his neck to prevent being put on the ground whilst Solfrid clung on to his legs. The rest of the children were now looking around apprehensively and more than one of them glanced back at the heavily bolted gate; clearly wishing that they had refused to come and stayed behind with Dim Dalba.  

 

“What’s this black stuff?” Solfrid demanded as she nudged the cobbled ground cautiously with the toes of her boot, “Where’s all the snow? _And the trees_?!”

 

“It’s just stone Solfrid, but on the ground like when the wind used to knock bits off the Snowy Mountain,” Tormund explained kindly as Solfrid continued to look at the ground suspiciously, “Remember? And the snows just melted. Don’t worry; they’ll be more before the days out.”

 

“But why are all these people staring at us?” Solfrid asked as she pointed to an old woman who was pretending to peg out some bed sheets, “Look; that lady keeps looking at us with a frowny face that Dim Dalba always uses when someone tracks mud into camp.”

 

She pointed over at a girl sweeping the yard that turned a vivid shade of pink, promptly dropped her broom and ran off in the direction of the kitchens.

 

“Because they don’t know any different,” Tormund told her as he finally managed to pull her out from behind him, “Don’t you pay any attention to them.”

 

“But you said it’s _rude_ to stare at people! Those other people are doing it as well!” Solfrid was saying as she gave up trying to hide behind him and instead pointed out all the other people that were looking over at them.

 

“I also said it’s rude to point Miss Solfrid,” Tormund told her and Solfrid dropped her hand but continued to look as if she wished she could have gotten on top of his shoulders as well, “Now you behave yourself like a good girl whilst I see to the rest of this lot.”

 

He gave a sharp whistle and the reaming children jumped to attention and clustered around him leaving Solfrid to try and wriggle her way back underneath his arm. Next he reached up and removed Hala from his shoulders and gave her a kiss on the forehead before setting her down next to her sister.

 

“It’s not right,” an old woman muttered, loud enough for Brienne to hear, as she hurried past the group of children, “Not right at all bringing those _things_ up here. Not when there are women and children about.”

 

Anger churned in Brienne’s gut and she glared at the elderly woman who gave her a snooty look when she ducked past Brienne on her way her way to the kitchens. The prejudice against the Free Folk was something Brienne hadn’t ever really considered and, shamefully, been a part of herself. There was a war about to be fought on all fronts and this continued ignorance really wasn’t helping anyone. 

 

“Remember what I told you, all of you?” Tormund was saying as he crouched down next to the children who were all listening intently, “Some of these people will say things to you; mean nasty things to hurt your feelings and make you doubt where you come from. Do.Not.Let.Them. They don’t understand our ways and some of them don’t want to but that doesn’t make them bad, it just makes them stupid. You’re Free Folk and you will hold your head high and be proud of that. What are the Free Folk?”

 

“NOT STUPID!” the children all coursed back to him.

 

“And?”

 

“NOT KNEELERS!” they chirped back in unison.

 

“Correct,” Tormund told them before turning his attention back to his oldest daughter, “Miss Solfrid; do you have something you would like to add?”

 

Whilst he had been speaking Solfrid had been trying to climb her way back up his leg with little success. Once she realised that this wasn’t going to work, she’d taken hold of his sleeve and was tugging on it incessantly.

 

“Daddy I think we should leave,” she informed him and she even tried to pull him back towards the gate, “There’s not enough snow here and it's smelly.”

 

“Miss Solfrid,” Tormund said, firmly but kindly as he caught hold of her hand and held her firmly in place, “All I’ve been hearing from you for weeks now is “ _Daddy I want to go to Winterfell_ , _daddy I want to see all the animals_ , _daddy I want to see how the Southern folk live_.” Now, do you _really_ want me to take you home? ”

 

Solfrid appeared to consider this as she looked around the courtyard dubiously but ultimately decided that she didn’t want to be taken back to camp. 

 

“No…” she admitted after a slightly longer pause, “But I _still_ don’t like it here.”

 

“There’s nothing to be scared of,” Tormund reassured her as he patted her on top of the head, “It’s just like a big tent. Come on now; it’s time to show these Southerners how the Free Folk fight.”

 

He tried to lead her away from the gate but Solfrid stubbornly refused to move; digging her heels in. Hala then apparently decided that she’d had enough of being on the ground and attempted to climb back up on Tormund’s shoulders. She’d been waiting silently to one side whilst Tormund tried to corral the rest of the children but now that they were moving further into the bowels of Winterfell she was determined to be picked up again. Even when tangled up with two small children, Tormund remained calm and set about trying to diffuse the situation. Just at the point where he had everything under control a loud crash sounded from the stables,followed by a multitude of swearing, and Solfrid darted forward and successfully managed to get half way up Tormund’s leg before he could stop her. Upon seeing this, the rest of the children clustered tightly together and remained immovable whilst Tormund tried to keep his daughters under control.  

 

“Why can’t I go with you and Hala?” Solfrid begged as she did her best to burrow herself back underneath Tormund’s coat, “Like last time? I’ll be _ever_ so good and I promise I won’t ask the Onion Man questions about why he doesn’t have any fingers again!”

 

“Because I need you to be in charge of this lot,” Tormund said as he easily extracted her, “You can be the Chief for the day.”

 

Rather than try and make Hala wait on the ground, he picked her and the little girl appeared much happier for it; calming instantly now she was safely sat back on her father’s shoulders.  

 

“Really?!” Solfrid said; her expression brightening considerably and she stopped trying to hide underneath Tormund’s coat, “Like you and Dim Dalba?!”

 

“Yes, but only if you’re ready to be a big brave girl like I know you are,” Tormund told her, causing Solfrid to beam with pride, “You can even wear my special gold.”

 

Solfrid gave a great squeal of excitement and Brienne watched as Tormund pulled his glove off and removed a solid gold bangle from his wrist and slipped it onto his daughters. Where he’d gotten such a treasure from Brienne couldn’t even fathom but it must have a lot of sentimental attachment because Solfrid was practically in awe of it.

 

“I’ll be _extra_ careful with it daddy,” she said as she stared at the glittering bracelet on her wrist, “I’ll be a _really_ good chief and I’ll look after _everyone_ ; just like you.”

 

“Good girl; Chief Solfrid,” Tormund said with a smile as Solfrid gave another gasp of excitement.  

 

Being tasked with such an important role made Solfrid regain some of her earlier confidence and she didn’t look half as afraid as she had been when she first arrived. It was a clever move on Tormund’s part and yet again Brienne was amazed at just how well he coped with being a single parent; she wouldn’t have had the first clue at what to do. 

 

“Where’s Brienne?” Solfrid asked suddenly and Brienne hid even further behind her pillar; guilt churning in her stomach as Solfrid peered around, “She said she’d give us a tour like the Bird Boy had of our camp!” 

 

“You can find her later but right now you need to show those Southern boys and girls what it takes to be a Free Folk,” Tormund instructed as he tried to steer her away once more and maybe Brienne was imagining it, but he sounded a little bit disappointed that she wasn’t there either.

 

“But I already _know_ how to shoot a bow and arrow and stab things with a sword,” Solfrid wined, her bottom lip pouting a little, “ _I_ want to help you and King Crow.”

 

For the first time Tormund’s cheery demeanour changed and he knelt in front of Solfrid, his face full of concern, and took her firmly by the shoulders. 

 

“It’s not about shooting bows and arrows or hunting rabbits, this is about staying _safe_ ,” he told her, the urgency evident in his voice as she shook her by the shoulders a little, “It’s about keeping you and your sister _safe_ ; do you understand me?”

 

“Yes daddy,” Solfrid said quietly as she looked up at him, “I understand.”

 

“Good girl,” Tormund said as he pulled her close and hugged her tightly; Hala leaning down to stroke his cheek. 

 

“So we don’t end up like mummy?” Solfrid asked softly as Tormund held her tightly against his chest, “And Wun Wun and Yigritte?”

 

“No; we wouldn’t want that now would we?” Tormund jested as he finally let her go and straightened up her coat.

 

He’d tried to make a joke out of it, probably to divert Solfrid’s attention elsewhere, but even from her hiding spot Brienne could hear the emotion in his voice. It must be so very _frightening_ knowing of the dangers that lurked out there and wanting to protect your children but ultimately realizing you might not be able to. That was the point she _almost_ came out from behind her pillar but in the end thought the better of it; what could she _possibly_ say? Their mother was dead, their friends were dead and what had killed them was slowly heading back towards them.

 

“Now,” Tormund said as he turned back to Solfrid who was busy admiring her newly acquired bracelet, “If any Southern tw-, If any Southern child calls you names what do you say?”

 

“That we’re Free Folk and we don’t answer to anyone but ourselves!” Solfrid and the rest of the children shouted back with much enthusiasm. 

 

“And?”

 

“Punch them on the nose!”

 

“Good girl, now off you go Chief Solfrid,” Tormund said as he steered her in the direction of the group of young boys who were milling about were the targets had been set up, “Show those Southerners what it takes to be a Free Folk.”

 

Solfrid straightened up, her chin jutted out in a determined manner before she marched over to where the training lesson would be taking place.

 

“Come on you lot!” she shouted; calling over her shoulder to the rest of the children who scrambled up after her, “Bye Hala, bye daddy!”

 

She gave them both a cheery wave and Tormund watched her for a moment or two before he headed off towards the Great Hall; Hala waving at her sister from over her father’s shoulder. Brienne waited until Tormund was safely out of sight before she broke her cover and made her way over to the group of assembled children. There were about fifteen of them all together; six from the Free Folk and nine from some of the nearby Northern houses. Disappointingly and despite Jon Snows _insistence_ that girls be trained in combat as well, it was only boys that had been sent down to Ser Attwell. This wouldn’t do, Brienne told herself, and she had already made up her mind to speak to Lady Sansa about this when she next saw her; why should the girls be left out? A few of the Northern boys eyed her suspiciously as she approached but said nothing and in the end Brienne was left hovered awkwardly on the side-lines whilst Serr Attwell continued to pretend she wasn’t there. He was midway through a highly embellished story about how he’d duelled Rhaegar Targaryen on the trident and “softened him up” so that the would-be-king, Robert Baratheon, could take the final blow. Most of the boys were hanging off his every word, desperate to hear more, but the Free Folk children looked distinctly unimpressed by his tale and were already starting to edge away from him; the horses in the stables having already caught their eye. 

 

“Ahh Lady Brienne,” Ser Attwell said finally once he realised he couldn’t ignore Brienne any longer and looked her up and down in a slightly contemptuous way, “So glad you could finally join us. Now children as I was saying…”

 

Whatever he had been about to say was drowned out by Solfrid’s shout of excitement and she sent a few of the Northern boys scattering out of the way as she charged towards Brienne.

 

“Young lady, I hadn’t finished speaking yet!” Ser Attwell called after her but Solfrid ignored him and continued running without any regard for decorum or the usual pleasantries that one might expect this side of the Wall.  

 

“BRIENNE!” Solfrid cried and she hugged Brienne tightly around the legs so hard that she almost fell over, “ _Where_ have you been? I missed you! And Hala missed you! But daddy missed you most though; he talks about you all the time!”

 

Brienne felt her cheeks redden slightly and she avoided looking at Ser Attwell, who was still looking  thoroughly annoyed that his story had been interrupted, and returned Solfrid’s hug with just as much enthusiasm. Looking down from her considerably height Brienne noticed two intricately woven buns adorned Solfrid’s head, clearly Frigga’s work, and for once they seemed to be doing a pretty good job of keeping her hair under control. In fact she looked very much the same as the last time Brienne had seen her; happy and excited. Nothing like the petrified little girl Brienne had seen in her dreams and she gave the girl an extra hard squeeze for good measure. Solfrid was still talking a mile a minute; where had Brienne been? What had she been doing? Did she want to see the hare she had caught whilst out with daddy and Hala? Brienne couldn’t remember anyone being this excited to see her before and it warmed her heart when Solfrid held onto her legs extra tightly.

 

“Have you come to help us practice sticking swords in things?” Solfrid asked excitedly as Brienne untangled her from her legs and knelt down next to her, “Oh _please_ say you’ll stay Brienne; that man over there is an idiot.”

 

She pointed over to where Ser Attwell was standing with a face like thunder, just in case Brienne wasn’t entirely sure of whom she was talking about. Brienne hastily turned away from the old knight who was now scowling at the rest of the Free Folk children as if they too had also called him an idiot. 

 

“Yes, I’ve come to help you with your sword training,” Brienne replied, deciding not to address the idiot comment, “Did your sister not want to come with you?”

 

“Hala’s helping daddy and King Crow,” Solfrid explained a little sulkily, “And this is _boring_. Daddy didn’t say we’d have to listen to that silly man or that it would be this smelly.”

 

Oh dear. Whilst she was right about the smell, Brienne thought that Solfrid would have liked learning how to wield a sword properly but then again, Ser Attwell wasn’t exactly the _best_ teacher. Even from here Brienne could see that he had his sword sheathed in completely the wrong position was likely to cause someone injury should he need to use it. However she was still curious as to why Hala wasn’t here as well; she had just presumed that Tormund’s youngest daughter was too little for sword training but clearly that wasn’t the case. What kind of help could a four-year-old possibly provide the King of the North? It didn’t feel right asking Solfrid, not with everyone watching, so Brienne decided to curb her curiosity for now. 

 

“You don’t like Winterfell then?” Brienne asked instead and her face fell a little as Solfrid shook her head so hard that one of her buns almost came loose.

 

“No. It’s dirty and it smells here,” she said promptly as she tucked her little body in close to Brienne’s, the same way she had done with Tormund, “I _wish_ you lived in our camp so we could see you all the time! It’s much better _and_ it doesn’t smell like poo.”

 

Brienne couldn’t help but smile; it was nice to know she was still wanted in the Free Folk camp despite what had occurred with Robin Arryn. Ser Attwell let out a huff of impatience, glaring over at them as he did so, and Brienne decided that it was probably best to let him get on with his lesson and held out her hand to lead Solfrid back over to the rest of the children. 

 

“Young lady I would think that you’d be grateful to have made it to Winterfell at all,” Ser Attwell said through gritted teeth as Solfrid scampered over to her friends, “But I daresay your… _people_ aren’t used to living in such grand accommodation.”

 

He waved his hand about in a grandiose manner and Brienne watched apprehensively as the Free Folk children took in the dirty stables being mucked out, the rotting food that was being tipped carted out from the kitchens and the filthy bedsheets that were being brought out for cleaning.

 

“It’s smelly here,” Solfrid reiterated and the rest of the Free Folk children nodded in agreement, “Our camp is _never_ this unclean; Dim Dalba doesn’t let _anyone_ who leaves a mess have any food until it’s tidy. Maybe you should do the same?”  

 

“Yes well…,” Ser Attwell muttered as he glared down at Solfrid, “I think the fact that we have a _roof_ and four walls rather some animal skinned tent should count for something. Now come along; I don’t have all day!”

 

Then he promptly strode off and left Brienne to corral the rest of the Free Folk children over to where the four large target practices had been set up. Or she would have done if Solfrid hadn’t dug her heels in and stubbornly refused to move and the rest of her friends followed suit; reluctant to go anywhere near Ser Attwell _or_ the assembled group Northern boys.

 

“Come on Solfrid,” Brienne said briskly as she tried to nudge her along, “You don’t want to miss anything.” 

 

“Our tent is better,” Solfrid muttered darkly but eventually she allowed Brienne to lead her over towards the target practices and, thankfully, the rest of the Free Folk children trotting along behind her.

 

Ser Attwell was already midway through another story, some rubbish about how his family were the best archers in the North, and refused to be interrupted; carrying on for several,long,boring minutes and showing no signs of stopping. One of the Northern boys gave a great snort of laughter when Solfrid came to stand next to him and made a big show of edging away from her, like she might attack him at any given moment. The rest of the boys weren’t much better; giggling and pointing at the Free Folk children’s handmade fur coats, their wild hair and the fact they perhaps didn’t look as impressed by Winterfell as the Northern boys thought they should be. 

 

“That’s enough,” Brienne snapped but the boy just gave her a very disparaging look and continued to giggle along with his friends. 

 

Ser Attwell seemed uninterested in correcting his charges bad manners and was busy fiddling with one of the targets whilst they mucked about behind him. Sighing heavily, Brienne tried her best to get all the children under control and back into a neat line but this proved to be harder than she first realised. The Northern boy who’d laughed at Solfrid refused to stand next to any of the Free Folk, the rest of his cronies following suit, and Brienne was beginning to lose her patience. Tormund made it look so _easy_ when he’d arrived with his daughters and the rest of the children; they all did _what_ he said _when_ he said it nor did they giggle at him behind their hands like the Northern boys were doing. Having never had any experience with children Brienne was finding the whole thing rather difficult.

 

“Shush!” she snapped as one of the boys ducked out of line again, “You need to pay attention!” 

 

One of the Free Folk children, a small girl with wild dark hair and piercing grey eyes, said something quietly in Old Tongue to a girl who was identical to her; right down to the very last freckle. Her twin answered back, louder than her sister, and the boys fell about laughing upon hearing the strange language. 

 

“WIN-TER-FELL,” a tall blonde boy said loudly and obnoxiously as he walked right up to the girls, “DO-YOU-UNDER-STAND?”

 

The dark-haired twins glanced at each other; their matching eyebrows raised slightly as the boy started laughing at them again. Ser Attwell didn’t seem to find anything wrong with the boy’s rude behaviour and was doing little to keep them under control; much to Brienne’s annoyance. 

 

“Why is he speaking all funny?” Solfrid asked her and the group of boys _once again_ dissolved into laughter, “He sounds like Jord after he fell off the Wall and couldn’t remember anyone anymore.”

 

Her friends nodded silently in agreement and one of them that Brienne recognised to be a Thenn hissed loudly at the boys; baring his sharp teeth. Brienne couldn’t help but be amused as the Northern boys glanced nervously at each other, backing away a little and out of possible biting range. The Thenn boy seemed happy enough that stories of his tribe’s cannibalistic tendencies had reached beyond the Wall and moved back into line with his friends. However the boys fear didn’t last long and they were back to laughing when one of the twins pulled a bundle of tightly wound twigs out of her pocket.

 

“Why are you laughing at us?” Solfrid asked bluntly and boldly in what seemed to be the Free Folk way and the boys studied her curiously whilst Brienne tried to shoo the rest of the children back into line.

 

“I thought Davis said they couldn’t speak?” one of the boys muttered and the rest of them started snickering again, “Davis?”

 

Davis, the boy that had started all the spiteful laughter, boldly stepped forward and stared down at Solfrid. He was at least a foot taller than her and had a thick thatch of blonde hair, a thin face and small eyes that gave him a slightly rattish look. He also didn’t appear to have been taught many manners and his lip curled into a sneer as he took in Solfrid's handmade fur skin boots and the way her hair had been piled up onto the top of her head; not a style worn this side of the wall.

 

“Daddy says it’s _rude_ to laugh at people _and_ whisper about them when you think they can’t hear,” Solfrid told him as Brienne watched warily, not at all sure of what to do with a bunch of squabbling children. 

 

“What would _you_ know about it?” Davis snorted nastily whilst his friends burst into laughter again, “ _Your_ people don’t even live in proper houses!”

 

“That’s _enough_ ,” Brienne shouted as she strode forward; sick of the rudeness and lack of manners from the boys, “Get back into line!”

 

Without even waiting for a chance for him to respond, she herded Davis back in between his friends and as far away from Solfrid as she could get him. He tried to argue with her but Ser Attwell seemed to have realised he’d lost his audience and had now decided that they should actually do some training. 

 

“Come along now children,” he said loudly as he strode forward with his sword out in front of him; almost taking one of the boys eyes out in the process, “Now if we could _finally_ get started I would be very grateful. I have important business with the King in the North later which I can’t be late for.”

 

That was a lie; Brienne was suppering with Jon Snow, Ser Davos, and Lady Sansa that evening so that they could go over Cersei’s supposed alliance with the North. No doubt Little Finger would make his presence felt but Brienne highly doubted that Ser Attwell would be included in such discussions. Nobody had mentioned if Tormund would be attending but Brienne didn’t think that Cersei Lannister's plot to keep hold of the Iron Throne would be of much interest to him. 

 

“Are you helping the King with the war effort?” Davis asked as he barged Brienne out of the way and hurried to Ser Attwell's side.

 

“Well, I don’t like to say _too_ much,” Serr Atwell said, sounding very much like the truth was, in fact, the opposite, “But the King has begun to lean on me a great deal; being a bastard this is all pretty new to him.”

 

Brienne scowled at him because there was no way he had any _idea_ what Jon Snow's plan was, nor was he in position to provide advice. Ser Attwell couldn’t even do the one thing he’d been asked to do, training the children, and Brienne was beginning to get impatient; they were losing the light and she would like for the children to at least learn something today. 

 

“Would you like me to-” Brienne began but Attwell cut across her before she could get to the end of her sentence.

 

“No thank you Lady Brienne. I daresay I can take it from here,” he said loudly as he waved her away, “If you could possibly keep these wild children under control I’d be most grateful; I think I know _quite_ a bit more about warfare than you do.”

 

The Northern boys giggled loudly and Ser Attwell flashed them a smug grin which caused Brienne’s blood to reach almost boiling point. Who on _earth_ raised such rude children?! _Or_ the idiot that was masquerading as their teacher? She opened her mouth to say something but Ser Attwell had already turned his back on her and was striding over towards the targets.      

 

“He’s very rude,” Solfrid said and the rest of her friends all nodded in agreement whilst Brienne clenched her jaw tightly. 

 

“Come on,” Brienne muttered as she moved them all forward just as Ser Attwell launched into another story, “We don’t want you to miss anything.”

 

Ser Attwell was now filling them in all the brave deeds various Knights had done over the years, which was all very well and good but it didn’t exactly help the children learn anything about how to use a sword. It all felt very macho; something Brienne was used to in all her years proving she was just as good as a man when it came to sword fighting. In the end she had to stand there and listened with the rest of the children whilst Ser Attwell droned on and on.

 

“… act of warfare fought courageously between valiant men and… What?”

 

Brienne started; she’d been near to nodding off and was daydreaming about what she was going to have for dinner to find that Solfrid had stuck her hand up. In fact, she was waving it haphazardly about and Brienne couldn’t help but feel like she had been schooled by her father that this was how Southerners got the attention of others. 

 

“ _Yes_?” Serr Atwell snapped; clearly annoyed at being interrupted once again.

 

“What about the girls?” Solfrid asked; keeping her hand firmly stuck up in the air.

 

“What about them?” Serr Atwell said impatiently whilst some of the Northern boys nudged each other and pointed at Solfrid's hand that was still stuck in the air. 

 

“Why aren’t _they_ in any of your stories?” Solfrid asked whilst Brienne quietly beamed with pride, “We have _loads_ of girl fighters in the Free Folk; my mummy could rip a Crow's head clean off _and_ daddy said she beat him in a fight more than once.”

 

“Girls don’t fight, or at least they didn’t before the King insisted upon it,” Ser Attwell said and it was obvious from his tone that he thought that girls had no place on the battlefield, “It’s a man’s work and that’s where it should stay if you ask me. Now, as I was saying…”

 

He didn’t get much further with his story as Solfrid now had both her hands in the air; standing on her tip toes so Ser Attwell couldn’t ignore her for long.

 

“ _Yes_?”

 

“Daddy says the Dragon Lady fights _and_ that she rides her dragon into battle _and_ they burnt all the Lannisters tine men into tiny pieces,” Solfrid explained with a little too much enthusiasm for Brienne’s liking, “ _And_ daddy said she would have won even without her dragon because-”

 

“The foreign invader doesn’t even have a dragon!” Davis snapped as he pushed in front and bared down on her, “That’s was just a _stupid_ story they made up to make her sound scary!”

 

“Yes, she does!” Solfrid insisted as she finally lowered both her arms and stamped her foot in annoyance, “Daddy met him!”

 

“No she doesn’t,” Davis snapped back, “It’s only idiots like _your_ people who believe that!”

 

“YES SHE DOES!!”

 

“You savages are just- OWW!”

 

A large snowball had struck Davis hard on the side of the head and Brienne turned around to find the young Thenn boy preparing to throw another one. There was much commotion; the Northern Boys were almost tripping over themselves to get away from the Thenns sharp teeth and it was at least five minutes before they became quiet again. Brienne gave the Thenn boy a rather stern look and he quickly dropped his snowball but he did kick it in the direction of Davis when he thought Brienne wasn’t looking. 

 

“Insubordination!” Ser Attwell thundered as he charged towards them but his eyes were quickly drawn to the pointed teeth the young boy flashed him and he seemed to think better of trying to tell him off.  

 

“Now if we could all please _pay attention_!” he said as he backed away a little and returned to his targets, “Most of you have never even held a sword and I won’t be held responsible if one of you gets your head cut off by a White Walker!”

 

“They don’t cut your head off,” Solfrid grumbled as she trudged after her friends, “They tear you into little pieces and eat you.”

 

“Do they?” one of the quieter Northern boys whispered, one of the ones who hadn’t joined in the laughing, as the rest of the children lined up again, “Do they _really_ eat you?”

 

Solfrid nodded nonchalantly before skipping off after her friends and they had to endure another boring story from Ser Attwell. This one didn’t seem to be as long as the last one and, thankfully, it wasn’t long before he was splitting the children off into pairs to “See what they were made of” whilst ignoring every suggestion that Brienne put forward.  

 

“You girl,” he said as he pointed at Solfrid after Brienne had been trying to explain that the training swords he was handing out were too big, “Stand here now.”

 

“No.” Solfrid said and Ser Attwell went almost apocalyptic with rage. 

 

“WHAT TO YOU MEAN NO?!” he shouted at her and ignored Brienne’s insistence that he lower his tone, “You’ll do as you’re told, girl!”

 

 

“You’re not an elder _or_ a Free Folk _or_ King Crow _or_ a Tarth like Brienne,” Solfrid pointed out whilst Ser Attwell went almost purple with indignation, “So we don’t need to listen to you if we don’t to, daddy said so, especially when you were being rude to Brienne.”

 

“I BEG YOUR PARDON!” Ser Attwell bellowed, “What’s this elder rubbish? I’ll have you know I’m very spritely for my age!”

 

“An elder is someone who’s been a clan chief but has gotten too old for fighting but knows all our history and our stories. Like Dim Dalba or Old Torill,” Solfrid explained; slowly and carefully like she was talking to someone dim-witted, “And a Tarth is what Brienne is.”

 

Ser Attwell shot Brienne a nasty look, like somehow this was all her fault ,before he bore down on Solfrid.

 

“That’s enough now young lady,” he told her he tried to move her right to the back of the pack of assembled children, “You and your… _friends_ can watch whilst Davis shows you how we do things in the North. Davis.”

 

He beckoned Davis forward, who looked very pleased with himself, and handed him one of the training swords whilst Solfrid muttered “We’re not in the North” under her breath. Brienne gave her a little tap on the head and smiled at her; hopefully she wouldn’t think that everyone at Winterfell was as cruel as Davis and his friends. Speaking of which, Davis strode forward with his chest puffed out and made a great show of swinging his sword about in what he clearly thought was an impressive fashion, before charging forward and stabbing the hay bale. 

 

“AGGHHH!” he yelled as he hacked away with his sword, “DIE REBEL SCUM!”

 

Following his lead a couple of Northern boys grabbed swords of their own and quickly ran forward towards the other targets. Bits of yellow straw started flying everywhere as they hacked and stabbed in a manner that made it clear to Brienne that if they were ever faced with a _real_ enemy, they’d lose miserably. After a while Ser Attwell bade them to stop, although it did take him a while to get Davis to give up his sword. Panting, he looked around at his friends in a very smug way whilst the Free Folk children huddled together and whispered to each other in Old Tongue. Before long they straightened up and Solfrid stepped forward once again. 

 

“We don’t understand what the point is.” she explained, ignoring the look Davis and his friends were shooting her, “Or why you’re hitting those coloured things.”

 

She pointed over to the now half-destroyed targets and then looked back at Ser Attwell expectantly. 

 

“Young lady the point is to-”

 

“But it doesn’t _move_ , that yellow thing, even my _sister_ could hit that and she’s only four!” Solfrid interrupted frustratedly, “Nothing stands still in the wild and waits for you to hit it; _everyone_ knows that!” 

 

Davis, who’d done the most damage to the hay bale, was looking scandalised at the thought of being outdone by a small child and he threw his training sword to the ground in a temper.

 

 “She’s a _girl_!” he wined as he elbowed Solfrid out of the way; causing the Thenn boy to hiss at him again, “What does _she_ know about anything?”

 

Brienne bristled from her place on the sidelines; there was a bloody _war_ on and they were complaining about taking direction from a girl?!

 

“Brienne’s a girl,” Solfrid said stubbornly as she pointed over to Brienne, who felt her face flush slightly, “ _And_ she’s better than any boy at fighting. Daddy said she fought a bear, tin soldiers, Mr. Dog and-” 

 

“Yes, yes that’s quite enough thank you,” Ser Attwell cut in before Solfrid could go any further, “We’re all aware of Lady Brienne’s… ahh… _achievements._ ”

 

He gave Brienne a very condescending look, as if he didn’t believe a word of what Solfrid had said, and went on to teach Davis how to string a bow properly. Either the boy was stupid or Ser Attwell was just an extremely poor teacher because the arrow spent more time on the floor then it did being fired at the target. Clearly unable to take criticism Davis began cursing everyone from his own archery teacher, Brienne, Ser Attwell and even the wood the bow had been made from. 

 

“You’re not very good at this are you?” Solfrid told him as the arrow clattered to the floor once more, “Brienne’s _much_ better at sword fighting than that silly old man. She should be teaching us.”

 

Davis ignored her and went back to arguing with Ser Attwell about which one of them was causing him to be so bad at archery. The rest of the children were just left to mill about and Brienne noticed that two of the Northern boys had already snuck off towards the kitchens; clearly desperate for some breakfast. One of the Free Folk boys, who was taller than Solfrid but only just, grumbled something in Old Tongue and the others nodded in agreement. 

 

“If you can’t speak our language then you shouldn’t be here,” Davis said snootily as he made a great show of drawing back his bow, “What was he grunting about anyway?”

 

“Yoren says you’re an idiot and I agree with him,” Solfrid said primly as Davis almost dropped his bow again out of anger, “You’ll rip the skin clean off your fingers if you do that.”

 

Yoren said something else; this time pointing over at Davis who seemed to take this as some sort of threat. Abandoning his bow he ducked behind Ser Attwell; the rest of his friend’s quickly following suit. 

 

“Yoren says that bow will break too because you Southerners can’t make things properly,” Solfrid explained and Brienne, all though not knowing much about archery, could see that she was right.  

 

“What are _your_ bows and arrows made from then?” a northern boy called as he peered out from behind Ser Attwell, “Twigs? Bits of filthy hair?”

 

“Willow bark,” Solfrid replied as if this was the most obvious thing in the world, “ _Everyone_ knows that’s the best wood to make bows from.”

 

“If you’re so good, then _you_ hit the target then,” one of Davis’s friends said boldly as the rest of the boys egged him on, “Come on Wild Girl.”

 

Brienne had been about to call time on all this silly arguing and get on with some real training but Solfrid had already stepped forward; waiting patiently to be given a weapon. Clearly feeling a bit braver, the Northern boys clustered around her leaving Davis to pick up his hastily dropped bow. 

 

“You boy, give her that bow,” Ser Attwell told him; clearly hoping to show Solfrid up, “Then we’ll see what the girl can do.”

 

“I will not! My father gave me this bow on my eighth name day,” Davis shouted petulantly as he hugged his expertly carved bow to his chest, “I’m not handing it over some sav-… to some stranger!”

 

He’d been about to call Solfrid a savage but seemed to think the better of it given the look Brienne had given him _and_ the noise of the Thenn boys knuckles cracking in a menacing sort of way.

 

“Here,” one of the quieter boys said, the one who’d asked about the White Walkers eating people, as he stepped forward to hand Solfrid his bow despite the looks the other boys were giving him, “You can use mine.” 

 

It was Billy Burly from House Burly; a boy that Brienne knew liked to frequent the library at Winterfell and whose house was _actually_ famous for its prowess with a bow and arrow. The bow he handed over to Solfrid was almost as big as she was but Solfrid took it from him before Brienne could stop her.

 

“Go on then girl,” Ser Attwell chortled as he made a great show of getting out of her way, “Let’s see what a Wildling can do.”

 

He laughed loudly, the boys following suit, and Brienne edged forward a little as Solfrid gathered up a quiver of arrows; maybe she should put a stop to this? She wasn’t Solfrid's mother but she still had a duty of care towards her. What if Tormund found out and was angry at her for putting another one of his daughters in danger? 

 

“Solfrid,” Brienne said warningly but the girl just smiled at her.

 

“It’s all right Brienne,” she said as she expertly strung the massive bow, “Daddy won’t be cross.”

 

Then one by one she went down the line and fired; her arrow hitting the centre of the target _every single time_. The Free Folk children gave out a loud cheer but the Northern boys didn’t seem to know how to react; the surprise on their faces almost comical. Davis, however, was looking particularly angry at being shown up by a girl and he kicked angrily at the ground.

 

“Well, that’s very… I’m sure…” Ser Attwell muttered as Davis continued to look murderously at Solfrid and he pushed forward; his hands outstretched as if to push her over.

 

Brienne started forward but Solfrid had already drawn another arrow, only this time it was aimed straight at Davis’s head. The boy let out a strangled cry and Brienne and Ser Attwell shouted at her to stop but Solfrid had already let the arrow fly; a sound like a whip cracking as it went sailing through the air. Davis didn’t even have time to scream as the feathered tip grazed his cheek and landed with a thud into the wooden pillar behind him. 

 

“I told you this place was dirty,” Solfrid said as she nodded to the pillar behind Davis; a huge rat nailed in place by her arrow.

 

A loud chant erupted from the Free Folk children and Solfrid gave them a small bow and Brienne couldn’t help but clap along with them. It wasn’t just the Free Folk this time either as most of the Northern Boys were clustered around her and eagerly clamouring for her attention; Davis laying forgotten on the ground. 

 

“Do you _really_ have giants _and_ mammoths _and_ great ice bears beyond the wall?” Billy Burly asked her; the words coming out in a rush as he excitedly took the bow back from her.

 

“Mm-hum. Leif over there used to have Ice bears pull his sleds across the Frozen Sea,” Solfrid explained as she indicated to one of her friends, “He even rescued a baby one once. We called it Growler and when he was big enough we took it back to the frozen sea where all the other bears live.”

 

Billy and most of the other all boys seemed very impressed by this and crowded round Leif to hear more about the ice bears. His training session in tatters, Ser Attwell gave Brienne a disgusted look and stomped off; Davis following close behind him. 

 

“Can I have my tour now Brienne?” Solfrid asked as she broke away from her friends and scampered up to Brienne. “This is boring.”

 

“Yes all right then,” Brienne said; secretly pleased that Solfrid wanted to spend more time with her.

 

After leaving strict instructions that the Free Folk children to remain in the courtyard and _only_ leave when Brienne came back or Tormund came to collect them, Brienne took hold of Solfrid’s hand and began to lead her away. It was a lot quieter once they’d made their way through the entrance that led to the Great Hall; most people were rushing about outside getting Winterfell ready for the oncoming winter. Solfrid stuck close to her and her grip on Brienne’s hand tightened as the servants pushed past them. Thankfully the Great Hall was all but deserted and Brienne brushed the snow off her boots and helped Solfrid to do the same; she wouldn’t want to be accused of tracking dirty footprints all over Winterfell. A small wooden door that led to the Council of War room was to their right and Brienne paused slightly as she eyed it with great interest.

 

“That’s where daddy and Hala are,” Solfrid explained as she pointed to the heavy wooden door, “Talking to King Crow and the Onion Man.”

 

“Do you know why Hala is with them?” Brienne asked curiously but Solfrid didn’t appear to want to answer; shuffling her feet a little and looking down at the floor.

 

“Daddy says I’m not supposed to tell,” she whispered as she chewed her bottom lip, “It’s a secret.”

 

“Oh,” Brienne said; unable to stop herself from feeling a little bit disappointed, “Well I’m sure your father will be _very_ pleased to know you’ve been such a good secret keeper.”

 

Solfrid beamed at her and Brienne turned away from the Council of War room and began asking her little companion what she would like to see. True, Winterfell didn’t excite Brienne _nearly_ as much as Tarth did but seeing as this was Solfrids first visit she was determined to make it a good one.  

 

“I want to see _everything_!” Solfrid chirped excitedly as she spun around in an excited circle, “Daddy said there are _dead_ people that live underneath the ground, but not like the White Walkers, and a big stone room that can fit _everyone_ inside it!”

 

A tour of the crypts didn’t seem appropriate, those stone-faced statues gave Brienne the creeps, and the Great Hall would soon be filling up with hungry would-be soldiers. Perhaps a visit to Brienne’s chambers would be the best place to start?  

 

“Come along,” she said as she held out her hand to a still spinning Solfrid, “I know just the place.”

 

Solfrid stopped twirling and ran after her; her tiny hand slipping easily into Brienne’s large one. Hand in hand they made their way out into the corridor and Brienne told Solfrid what little history she knew about Winterfell and House Stark. Privately Brienne much preferred Tarth, with its warm waters and the beautiful marble castle that her family had lived in for generations but she at least tried to make Winterfell sound fun; even if it was just for Solfrid’s benefit. Everything here seemed a bit bleak and cold looking and Brienne would have _much_ rather have shown Solfrid something colourful for her first trip away from camp. Maybe one day she would get to show Solfrid the sapphire coloured waters that surrounded her homeland but, for now, Winterfell would just have to do. 

 

“Perhaps one day you, Hala and your father would like to come and see where I grew up,” Brienne said tentatively but Solfrid had already run off ahead of her and Brienne had to hurry to catch up with her.

 

She was beginning to discover that taking care of children, even just the one, was extremely hard work and Brienne had a new found respect for Tormund being able to do this all by himself. It can’t be easy she thought, as she ran to catch up with Solfrid, especially with two such spirited girls.  When she finally caught up with her Solfrid was busy inspecting the huge suits of old armour that stood either side of the hallway; their doublets and helmets perfectly polished. In fact, she was even standing on tiptoe to see if there was anyone inside.

 

“Hello?” she called as she knocked on the hollow suit of armour with her fist, “Is anyone in there?”

 

When no one spoke back to her she looked highly disappointed so Brienne lifted her up so she could have a proper look inside, before leading her over to one of the huge tapestries that hung on the wall.

 

“This must be the history of House Stark,” Brienne said with interest as she followed the timeline that encompassed the entire length of the wall, “Look; you can see where the First Men came to Westeros.”

 

She pointed over at the very start of the tapestry where a tall group of men was depicted building fires and huts in the forest.

 

“That’s not true,” Solfrid said; frowning as she trotted over to the huge wall hanging, “The Children of the Forest were here first. _Everyone_ knows that.”

 

“The Children of the Forest?” Brienne asked as she looked back over the tapestry, “Who are they?”

 

Much like the White Walkers, the Children of the Forest hadn’t had much of an impact in Tarth and Brienne had been more interested in hearing stories of courageous knights when she was a child. Solfrid meanwhile was looking at her like she’d grown an extra head and Brienne felt slightly embarrassed at her ignorance. 

 

“You’ve _never_ heard of the Children of the Forest?” the little girl asked as her eyes went wide with shock, “ _Everyone_ we know knows _all_ about the Children of the Forest!”

 

“I don’t think they ever reached Tarth,” Brienne said with a smile as she moved closer to the end of the tapestry, “Why don’t you tell me about them?”

 

“Don’t worry,”Solfrid said as she patted Brienne’s hand with her tiny one, “Daddy says that not everyone has to know everything; just the important bits like how to hunt deer and find fresh water.” 

 

“That I do know how to do,” Brienne said with a laugh, “Come on then; tell me all about the Children of the Forest.”

 

Solfrid was beaming again, clearly the Children of the Forest were a favourite of hers, and she practically bounced up and down as she began to tell her tale. 

 

“The Children of the Forest ruled Westeros for thousands of years before anyone even came here,” she explained as Brienne listened carefully to her, “They lived in the forests before people came and began cutting them down. Wun Wun’s Daddy said that the Giants lived with them as well but they fought each other all the time but then the First Men came, like us, and cut down all their Weirwood trees.”

 

Brienne listened intently to her; trying to imagine what it must have been like growing up with stories like this. Septa Rosa had very little interest in telling Brienne stories when she was a girl and was more intent on trying to force her to conform to a “women’s standards and what was expected of her”; whatever that was supposed to mean. 

 

“That made the Children of the Forest really sad and they fought each other for ages,” Solfrid continued, “They even destroyed one of the silly Southern armies with their Greenseers. You should get daddy to tell you that story! He makes it scary and he does all the voices.”

 

“Greenseers?” Brienne asked; her curiosity peaked.

 

“Like King Crow's brother,” Solfrid explained, not at all bothered that Brienne once again didn’t know what she was talking about, “They’re magic!”

 

She seemed very excited at the prospect of magic, as children often are, but Brienne wasn’t so sure what had happened to Bran Stark was anything to be excited about. From what she’d heard he’d spent far too long beyond the wall with only Mera Reed and Hodor for company; his brains most certainly addled. Not that she was about to squash Solfrid’s dreams of magic being real so instead, she led her away from the tapestry to the staircase that led to her quarters. 

 

“This might not be as fun as magic,” she said as she started to climb up the stairs, “But I’m sure- oh.”

 

Solfrid was already bounding ahead of her; her excited laughter bouncing off the stone walls and filling the corridor. In the end Brienne had to jog to catch up with her, it would just be her luck that she ended up losing Solfrid or the girl barged into a room she wasn’t supposed to. Quickly catching hold of Solfrid’s hand she set a more sedate pace and they climbed the staircase together, with Brienne pointing out some of the portraits of famous Starks that lined the walls.  

 

“It’s like when daddy takes us climbing up the ice cliffs but less cold,” Solfrid said excitedly as she held on tight to Brienne’s hand and followed her lead.

 

With Brienne’s careful instruction it didn’t take long for Solfrid to get the hang of the stairs, however she did appear to be a _little_ overwhelmed just by how much there was to see at Winterfell. Servants where coming and going from every corner of Winterfell and Solfrid stuck to Brienne’s side like glue. A few of the servants looked a little taken aback when they’d spotted Brienne walking along with Solfrid beside her and, quite frankly, Brienne found it rather annoying. It was one thing to gawp so openly at Tormund who was an adult, but to do it so openly to a child was inexcusable; no wonder the other children had refused to even step foot inside the front gate.

 

“Come along Solfrid,” Brienne said firmly as she held on firmly of Solfrid’s hand and led her past one of the chamber girls who had turned around to stare intently at the little girl, “Let’s go find something fun to do!”

 

Brienne led her along the corridor and away from prying eyes until they reached the room she’d been staying in since she’d arrived at Winterfell. Pushing the door open with a flourish she had expected Solfrid to dash straight past her in excitement ,only to find Solfrid hovering uncertainly behind her; peered through the doorway. It was understandable that she might be a little apprehensive, considering that Brienne’s room could probably have fit over a dozen full-sized tents in it. 

 

“It’s all right,” Brienne said softly as she took hold of Solfrid’s hand once again, “You’re quite safe I promise.”

 

Emboldened, Solfrid allowed herself to be led through the door and gave a great gasp of excitement.  

 

“Wow!” she breathed as Brienne ushered her over the threshold, “What’s that Brienne?!”

 

She was pointing to Brienne’s huge four poster bed, complete with thick woven curtains that always made Brienne feel slightly claustrophobic; she liked to have a clear line of sight at all times. 

 

“That? That’s just my bed,” Brienne explained whilst she shut the door carefully behind them, “Do you want to sit on it?”

 

Solfrid nodded eagerly and was already pulling her boots off; her little feet clad in a pair of thick fur socks. Then she took a running jump and landed on the bed with expert agility and Brienne suspected she had been climbing things her whole life. At some point she was _definitely_ going to ask Tormund about climbing up and over the Wall; it sounded very impressive. 

 

“Oh!” Solfrid gasped with surprise as the mattress wobbled beneath her and she gave an experimental bounce. 

 

“You can jump on it if you want,” Brienne said as she perched on the end of the mattress; Septa Rose would probably be turning in her grave at the idea of someone jumping on a freshly made bed. 

 

Solfrid didn’t need telling twice and soon she was bouncing up and down; laughing hysterically.

 

“This is fun!” she giggled as she jumped up and down, “Come on Brienne!”

 

“I think I might be a bit big,” Brienne said but she couldn’t help but smile at Solfrid's enthusiasm.

 

“You’re not too big,” she panted as she pushed her hair out of her face, “You’re perfect sized. That’s what daddy tells Mr. Dog anyway.” 

 

Brienne felt her cheeks redden once more at the thought of Tormund telling Clegane that she was the “perfect size” which was, quite frankly, ludicrous. By her twelfth name day Brienne already towered over any potential suitors and even now she still had a good few inches on Tormund. Mostly she just felt like she was made up of a great expanse of legs and arms with little in between. However the Free Folk didn’t seem to mind tall people, in fact, Brienne didn’t think she’d seen any of them that were on the short side. There was a loud thump next to her and Brienne was pulled out of her daydream by Solfrid flopping down next to her; panting heavily. 

 

 

“Can daddy come and see your bedroom?” Solfrid asked and Brienne felt her face flush once more, “And Hala? Can they jump on it as well?”

 

“Urmm… maybe,” Brienne trailed off awkwardly; Tormund wasn’t coming anywhere _near_ her bedroom for the foreseeable future.

 

“Daddy’s good at jumping,” Solfrid told her as she traced the pattern on Brienne’s bedspread with her small fingers, “ _And_ climbing _and_ everything really. I know he’ll be really excited to see your bed.”

 

“ _Or_ I could show you the God’s Wood,” Brienne offered as she steered the conversation away from Tormund being in the vicinity of her bed, “I think your father and Hala would like that.”

 

“Is that where you can talk to people who aren’t here anymore?” Solfrid asked as she rolled onto her back at stared up at Brienne upside down, “Like mummy and Wun Wun?”

 

“Yes, yes I think so if that’s what you’d like to do,” Brienne told her, although she wasn’t entirely how the Old Gods worked having been raised with the Faith of the Seven.

 

“Daddy would like that,” Solfrid said before she was suddenly sliding of Brienne’s bed and bounding towards the open wardrobe, “What’s _that_?!”

 

She was pointing at a straggly mop of dark red hair that was half hanging out of the bottom of Brienne’s wardrobe. For a horrible moment, Brienne was struck by how _much_ it reminded her of Hala; her little body battered and bloodied from her dream. Without even thinking she rushed over to pick it up and was relieved when it turned out to be a doll.

 

“These used to belong to Lady Sansa,” Brienne explained as she held out one of the red-haired dolls to Solfrid, “I don’t think she’d mind if you played with them for a bit though.”

 

“Oh,” Solfrid said, not sounding all that impressed by the doll, “I thought you’d been hunting or that a monster lived in there that we could fight. What do you do with it?”

 

“You play with it,” Brienne said as she awkwardly dangled the doll about; she’d had little time for dolls in her own childhood and had been desperate for a sword by the time she was five.

 

She handed the doll to Solfrid who looked at suspiciously for a moment or two, like it might actually turn out to be a monster, and seemed highly disappointed when this wasn’t the case. Brienne was a bit stuck at what to do now; she’d never really been around children and she racked her brains to try and think of a game that they could play together. Solfrid, however, had other ideas.

 

“What’s _that_?” she asked eagerly as she abandoned the doll and crawled into the very back of the wardrobe; returning with Brienne’s leather-clad traveling pouch clenched in her small hand.

 

Upon realising that it was the blade Pod had used to skin any game they had found whilst out on the road, Brienne took it from her instantly; explaining that it was very sharp and very dangerous. The word “dangerous” only excited Solfrid further and she sat herself down on Brienne’s lap and begged to know all about Brienne’s time out searching for the Stark girls. Half an hour later the doll lay discarded on the floor whilst Brienne showed Solfrid all the important things she had carried with her on her journey to find the Stark sisters _and_ how she had tracked Sansa all the way through the snow after her escape from the Bolton's; something which the little girl found infinitely more interesting. 

 

“You’ll have to tell Hala all this; she’ll be _so_ sad she missed it and was stuck with the boring old Onion Man. Do you have any brothers or sisters?” Salford asked as she stood up and started trying to plait Brienne’s short hair.

 

“I used to but they all died when I was little,” Brienne replied sadly as Solfrid’s little fingers brushed through her hair, “I’m my father’s only living child now.”

 

“Oh,” Solfrid said as she stopped playing with Brienne’s hair, “That’s like daddy; had lots of brothers and sister but they're all dead now. Sometimes that makes daddy sad so I give him a big hug so you can have one as well.”

 

She wrapped her small arms tightly around Brienne’s neck and snuggled in, her arms squeezing a fraction tighter and Brienne breathed more slowly, her body melting into the little girls embrace. It made her feel instantly better and far less alone then she usually felt. 

 

“I like being a big sister,” Solfrid told her with a smile as she pulled back a little, “Daddy says that’s the _best_ job of all and that we’ll _always_ have each other.”

 

“That’s very true, I think you do an _excellent_ job at being a big sister,” Brienne told her as Solfrid beamed with pride.

 

“I miss mummy sometimes though,” Solfrid admitted sadly as she went back to trying to braid Brienne’s hair, “But daddy says not to be sad because when mummy looks down at us from the stars she wants to see happy faces and not sad ones.”    

 

“That’s what my father used to say to me,” Brienne replied, saddened by the memory, “I don’t think I did a very good job at showing my happy face though.”

 

“Why not?” Solfrid asked; her little tongue poking out in concentration.

 

“Well, when I was little some of the other children weren’t very nice to me,” Brienne explained as best she could, “They’d say mean things about me all the time and because of the way I look, people didn’t want to be my friend.”

 

“Those people were stupid; if _I_ knew you when you were small _I’d_ be your friend _and_ daddy _and_ Hala would as well. Daddy says that people are mean because they’re jealous,” Solfrid told her as she moved onto braid the rest of Brienne’s hair, “And that they make other people feel down or upset to make them feel better about themselves. Daddy say’s that’s a sad way to live and we’re not to listen to anyone that calls us names or says nasty things about the Free Folk. I bet the people who were mean to you were jealous because you’re so nice and kind and can fight people.”

 

She said it so matter of factly that Brienne couldn’t help but tear up; wishing that she _had_ had a friend like Tormund and his girls when she was a young girl.

 

“Or if you can’t ignore them then daddy says it’s ok to punch them on the nose,” Solfrid said brightly and causing Brienne to burst out laughing. 

 

“I should have punched that mean Southern boy,” Solfrid said darkly as her eyebrows knitted together in a scowl, “But daddy said I wasn’t allowed to hit anyone because this is my first visit to Winterfell. Next time I’m _definitely_ going to hit him though.”

 

Brienne had been about to tell her that perhaps she _shouldn’t_ punch Davis but then she remembered al the laughing, snide remarks and his temper tantrum and thought the better of it. Davis could probably do with taking down a peg or two and learning that girls are just as tough, sometimes tougher, than boys. 

 

“Would you like to go and see the horses?” Brienne asked her as she stood up and admired her new braids in the mirror, “We can bring them some carrots and fruit from the kitchen.”

 

“Is a horse that big thing you sit on that carries you to our camp?” Solfrid asked as she began pulling her boots back on, “The one that that boy who comes with you always falls off of?”

 

“Umm… Yes,” Brienne told her, although she wouldn’t have quite put it like that, even if the horse did put in more work to get through the snow than she did.

 

“Was your horse broken?” Solfrid questioned as she wriggled her foot back into her boots, “Is that why you didn’t come and see us? Could you not find another? We thought that the snow might be really deep but we made it up here with daddy ok.”

 

Brienne shifted guiltily; she hadn’t really considered that Solfrid and Hala might miss her or be confused by her absence as nobody else ever seemed to. She was about to explain her reasoning, as best she could, but Solfrid had already bolted towards the door; shouting excitedly about seeing the horses. Dashing after her, Brienne caught up with her and led Solfrid back down the stone staircase. The horse would be a real treat she told herself as she pushed open the heavy wooden doors that led out into the courtyard and almost trod on Hala, who had seemingly appeared out of thin air in front of her; letting out a loud cry of shock. The little girl moved as silently as a ghost and Brienne was still doubled up clutching her chest when Solfrid rushed past her, bounded up to her sister and hugged her tightly. 

 

“You missed _everything_ Hal!” Solfrid chirped excitedly as she practically bounced up and down, “Brienne sleeps in a giant stone room with a big soft thing that you can jump on and…”

 

Then she was off; explaining everything she had seen with a child-like innocence whilst Brienne tried to recover from the shock. Hala seemed none the worse for wear but Brienne suppressed a small shudder as she remembered that horrible dream and Hala’s tiny body unmoving on the ground.

 

“Hala!” Brienne said as she knelt down next to her so she wasn’t towering over her like a giant, “Are you alright?”

 

Hala gave her a nod followed by a small smile and then suddenly darted forward and hugged Brienne tightly around the middle before quickly moving back next to Solfrid. Tears pricked the corners of Brienne’s eyes and she hastily wiped them away whilst Solfrid continued to chatter away to her sister. She wasn’t sure why it meant so much to her that Hala and Solfrid enjoyed spending time with her; it just did. They were always a complete delight to be around and Brienne would much rather spend her time with a four and six-year-old than most of the inhabitants of Winterfell. 

 

“… tin soldiers that people live in and Brienne didn’t know _anything_ about the Children of the Forest! I told her to ask daddy because he does all the voices, doesn’t he Hal? And then…”

 

Hala looked slightly alarmed at Brienne not knowing anything about the Children of the Forest and Brienne resolved to ask Tormund about them the next time she saw him; once she’d said thank you for the coat that is. 

 

“… the knife that she had with her when she went hunting for King Crow’s sister and she told me all about her adventures with Mr. Dog and Pod!”

 

A look of disappointment crossed Hala’s face and she looked sadly at the ground as Solfrid continued to go through all the stories that Brienne had told her; focusing heavily on the gory bits.  

 

“You can come again if you’d like,” Brienne told her and Hala looked up at her excitedly, “Would you like that Hala?”

 

Hala nodded enthusiastically, her braids even wonkier close up, whilst Brienne beamed at her; she was already thinking up some fun things to do for the girl’s second trip. She could show them the hot springs or the armoury where the blacksmiths were busy making shields and spears in preparation for the Great War. 

 

“Where’s daddy?” Solfrid asked, drawing Brienne back to the present and Hala pointed over to the door that led to the Council of War room. 

 

Despite herself, Brienne found herself craning her head towards where Hala was pointing; half expecting to see Tormund striding towards them. She’d built up a bit more confidence in herself since she’d seen him this morning but butterflies were still blossoming in her stomach. A few extra moments to compose herself would come in handy and Brienne decided that she would take both girls to the stables; it wasn’t far and Tormund could easily find them once he had finished with Jon Snow. She felt guilty for thinking it but she was toying with the idea of asking Solfrid and Hala if their father had mentioned her at all or if he was bothered by her absence. It wasn’t like she was going to just straight up ask them, it wasn’t fair to involve children in adult issues, but it would be nice to know what Tormund’s mood was regarding her lack of thanks for the coat he’d given her. 

 

“He’s going to be _ages_ ,” Solfrid grumbled, “I wanted to show him Brienne’s bed.”

 

Brienne felt her face burn with embarrassment; stammering awkwardly as she tried to explain as best she could that most certainly would _not_ be happening. What would people think?! Probably that there was no way that Brienne the Beauty would ever be able to get a man in her bedroom without some form of trickery, she thought bitterly. 

 

“You’ve gone all red again Brienne,” Solfrid commentated as both she and Hala looked at her curiously, “Don’t you want daddy to see your bed? It’s _so_ fun to jump on!”

 

“That's not really… we don’t…” Brienne stammered as she got even more flustered by the minute, “Why don’t we go and see the horses?”

 

Her voice went really high pitched at the end but neither Hala or Solfrid seemed to notice her discomfort and Solfrid let out a loud cheer of excitement; asking if horses had sharp claws and fangs that could tear things to shreds. Even when Brienne admitted that, no, a horse wasn’t remotely ferocious and mainly just carried people from a to b on its back, they both pottered off after her as she crossed the courtyard. One of the washerwomen paused what she was doing when she saw the two Free Folk children; her eyes narrowing at the sight them. 

 

“Good day,” Brienne said brightly just as the old women opened her mouth to say something, “Seven blessings to you.”

 

Without waiting for a response she ushered the two girls ahead of her and they made their way to the stables. Thunder, Ser Royce’s great black stallion, was happily munching on some grain when they entered and apparently unaware that he had visitors. Hala took a step backward as soon as she saw him; his huge hooves almost as big as her head. Solfrid, on the other hand, was looking at the huge horse with such excitement that Brienne was wondering how she was going to top this when they next came to visit. It was probably too cold to have horses beyond the wall and Brienne remembered what Dim Dalba had told her on her first visit to the Free Folk camp; a horse would likely slip and break its leg in the snow. Moving forward, she patted the horse on the flank to get its attention and then scratched his ears when Thunder removed his head from the hay basket. 

 

“Hala this is Thunder,” Brienne told her as the little girl continued to look warily at the massive horse, “Would you like to pet him?”

 

Hala shook her head frantically and backed away even further until she walked right into her sister. 

 

“Come on Hal, it’s just a horse!” Solfrid said as she pushed her sister forward again, “Like the one daddy rode to meet the Bolton Bastard.” 

 

Brienne blanched slightly at the phrase “Bolton Bastard” but said nothing further the matter. A bastard was what Ramsay Bolton was whether he had wanted to be or not. The mention of her father seemed to have emboldened Hala somewhat and she edged a little closer; her hand wrapped tightly around her sisters. Thunder leaned his head down and sniffed them both with interest, causing both girls to laugh loudly when he nuzzled up against their faces. Brienne took it in turns to pick them both up so they could give him a good scratch behind the ear and showed them how to pet him on the nose properly. 

 

“We’d never seen a horse before we came here,” Solfrid explained as Thunder nudged her hand with his nose until she resumed petting him and swished his tail back and forth happily, “Daddy had but he doesn’t like them much. He said walking’s better and the horse probably doesn’t want some old fat man sat on his back all day.”

 

Brienne couldn’t help but laugh at that; especially when she remembered all the trouble poor Pod had just trying to get his horse to move in the right direction. She’d sent him off last night to train with the archers in the hope that he might learn something. Sword training would come under her instruction only; a wise decision after seeing the pitiful display Ser Attwell had put on earlier. After a while Thunder seemed to have gotten his fill of attention for the day and turned his head back towards his food bucket; spraying the ground with crumbs. 

 

“I think he likes you,” Brienne said with a smile as she sat down on an upturned bucket, “Or the food at any rate.”

 

Solfrid beamed happily but her attention was diverted back to her sister who had been tugging insistently on her sleeve for the past few minutes. However, Hala would only shake her head whenever Solfrid or Brienne asked her what the matter was. In the end Brienne took a few steps away and busied herself with Thunder so it wouldn’t look like she was listening in when the sisters started whispering quietly to each other. It hurt a little bit that Hala was still too frightened to speak to her but Brienne decided that she would just have to try harder to make the little girl feel at ease.

 

“Go on Hala; show her,” Solfrid said suddenly as she nudged her sister encouragingly towards Brienne with her foot, “Brienne won’t tell, will you?”

 

She was looking at Brienne expectantly and Brienne felt herself nodding despite being greatly concerned about what Hala had hiding underneath her fur coat. What if she’d taken something that didn’t belong to her? Or what if it was something dangerous like a knife? It wasn’t Brienne’s place to tell them off but they were under her supervision whilst they were here, so she prepared herself to have a stern talk with them about how you couldn’t just take what you wanted this side of the Wall.

 

“Go on,” Solfrid said again as Hala looked over at Brienne apprehensively, “She said she won’t tell.”

 

With baited breath, she waited nervously as Hala glanced at her sister once more before opening the top button of her coat and, to Brienne’s intense relief, a pair of long fluffy ears poked out followed by a tiny, furry face. It was the little rabbit that had been destined for the dinner pot before Robin had caused such a fuss.

 

“Daddy let us keep him but we’re not to tell Dim Dalba,” Solfrid explained as she glanced around conspicuously as if Dim Dalba might suddenly appear and tell them off, “Dim Dalba always wants to cook everything.”

 

Hala held the rabbit out to Brienne, its fluffy body held tightly in her small hands, and Brienne knelt down slowly next to her so as not to frighten the creature. It didn’t seem to be all that bothered, even after being bundled up in Hala’s coat, and stayed perfectly still whilst Brienne reached out and stroked its soft ears. 

 

“I won’t tell, I promise,” she told them with a smile as the rabbit's nose twitched in the cold air, “Does it have a name?”

 

“ _I_ wanted to call him Brienne but daddy said no because that’s a girl’s name and its already _your_ name so we’ve named him Hound after Mr. Dog,” Solfrid explained and Brienne was more than a little grateful that Tormund had stepped in and got his daughters to think of a different name; she didn’t think she would be able to stand Clegane’s teasing. 

 

“Shall we find Hound something to eat? Come on,” Brienne said as she took Hala by the hand and led her over to the small food trough, “I bet there’s a nice carrot in here somewhere.”

 

They found a few pieces of carrot that Thunder hadn’t managed to chomp his way through and Brienne sat back down on an upturned bucket, Solfrid by her feet, and watched as Hound nibbled food out of Hala’s hand. Then, without warning, he sprang forward and disappeared into the mound of hay; Hala following close behind. Solfrid let out a loud giggle as her sister started hunting for her lost pet but her red hair was just about visible so Brienne left her too it. 

 

“So what do you think of Winterfell now you’ve seen it?” Brienne asked Solfrid who was busy drawing a pattern on the dirt floor with a stick, “Do you think you’d like to come again?”

 

“I liked your room and meeting Thunder,” Solfrid said as she abandoned her stick and came sit next to Brienne, “But I didn’t like that silly man who was rubbish at sword fighting _or_ when everybody kept staring at us. Is _everybody_ in the South like that?” 

 

“No, not everybody,” Brienne explained sadly; she’d rather hoped that Solfrid hadn’t noticed the frequent stares she’d been getting, “But most of the time when people say mean things to other people it’s because they’re not very happy themselves.”

 

“That's what daddy said,” Solfrid sighed as she fiddled with the buckle on Brienne’s boot, “Daddy told us before we left that some Southerners might be mean or call us names but not think about it because it just means they’re silly and the White Walkers will probably eat them first.”

 

Relieved that Solfrid had taken no notice of the bigotry, Brienne showed her the travel pouch she kept on her at all times; the firelighters proved to be a big hit. She was just going over how she had been chased through the forest by Little Finger’s men when Hala suddenly popped out from beneath a mound of hay with Hound clutched safely in her hands. One of her braids had come undone, her hair rapidly unraveling, and there were bits of straw and dirt stuck all throughout her hair. Great; Brienne was going to be delivering Tormund’s daughters back to him looking like she’d just let them roll about in the dirt unsupervised. 

 

“Hala!” Solfrid scolded when she saw the state her sister was in, “It took daddy _ages_ to do your hair!”

 

Hala made her way over to them; straw trailing along behind her. She didn’t look all that bothered about the mess she was in and seemed more interested in making sure Hound didn’t escape again. 

 

“Well, maybe I can do _something_ …” Brienne trailed off as Hala came and dutifully sat on her knee.

 

“Frigga did mine today,” Solfrid told her as she showed off the two buns that Brienne had no hope of recreating, “She was really grumpy that you hadn’t been back to camp.”

 

Oh dear; another person she would have to apologise to. Well, that couldn’t be helped now and Brienne set about trying to get Hala’s hair under control. After about ten minutes it quickly became apparent that Brienne was even worse at braiding hair then Tormund was and eventually she had to admit defeat; Hala simply had too much hair. In the end, she settled for undoing Hala’s other braid so she was at least even on both sides, picking out the straw and cleaning the dirt off her face. Solfrid helped Brienne brush some of the hair off of Hala’s face and between the pair of them they had her looking somewhat presentable. Hound was hopping happily on the floor; nibbling up all the pellets that Thunder had dropped before coming back to rest at Hala’s feet.

 

“Hala’s good with animals,” Solfrid said before she and her sister giggled quietly to themselves; a private joke no doubt. 

 

“Maybe we could see if one of the kitchen cats is about?” Brienne suggested as Hala scooped up Hound and tucked him safely back inside her coat, “I think I overheard the cook saying that one of them had had kittens.”

 

“I’d much rather meet a dragon,” Solfrid said wistfully whilst Hala nodded in agreement, “Or maybe King Crow's wolf. Daddy says he’s white like snow but has red eyes like blood.”

 

Brienne didn’t mind Ghost so much, all though it had been a shock to see a wolf that big when she’d first came to Castle Black, a dragon was another thing altogether. She really couldn’t see the appeal of something that could fly, breath fire and trample you to death without so much as a second glance. This didn’t appear to deter the girls though and Brienne was inwardly relieved that it was unlikely that they would ever meet a dragon. Brienne had seen all three of them flying overhead and that had been enough for her and the noise they made was almost indescribable; like something ancient from long ago that shouldn’t be here.  

 

“Mr. Dog came to visit us a lot after the bird boy went away,” Solfrid said suddenly and Brienne shifted guiltily in her seat, “All though he fell over a lot _and_ we had to sleep with daddy because he fell asleep in our bed! Even Bal Badock couldn’t move him and _he’s_ a Thenn! He even made that funny noise you did but louder and he didn’t stop; not even when daddy threw his boot at him.”

 

Brienne pursed her lips; getting drunk around small children was just typical of Clegane. No wonder they had to drag him all the way back here on a sled for her to deal with. At least he’d gone down there, a nasty voice told her, and not hidden in his bedroom like a big useless lump. 

 

“But daddy said we’re not to laugh at him, even when he falls over because that’s not a very nice thing to do,” Solfrid was saying before continuing quietly, “Mr. Dog’s brother doesn’t sound very nice though.”

 

“Oh?” Brienne asked curiously, “How do you know that?”

 

“We heard Mr. Dog telling daddy scary stories about him and he used lots of bad words,” Solfrid whispered before brightening considerably, “Daddy was really nice to him though and said he could borrow his axe if Mr. Dog wanted to hit his brother on the head with it.”

 

“Well… that’s very… _kind_ of your father,” Brienne said as she struggled to think of something good to say about the rather violent situation Clegane had found himself in. 

 

 “Why didn’t you come back?” Solfrid asked abruptly and Hala’s head popped up to listen closely, “Don’t you like us and daddy anymore?”

 

“Well… I… errr,” Brienne stammered as she struggled to think of an explanation that Solfrid and Hala would understand. 

 

“We heard daddy talking to Mr. Dog and he thinks you don’t like the coat we gave you,” Solfrid enquired, “Is that true?”

 

“No that’s not true,” Brienne told her honestly; hurt that she’d made Tormund think that she didn’t like the beautiful gift he’d given her, “That’s not true at all.”

 

“Daddy could make you a different one if you don’t like it; he’s _very_ good at making things,” Solfrid continued on brightly but Brienne only felt even more awful, “He made me and Hala a blanket out of all mummies old furs so she’d be with us even when we went to sleep at night.”  

 

“I love the coat; it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen and I’ll tell your father the next time I see him,” Brienne reassured the girls, “I’m sorry I haven’t been down to visit you, that wasn't very nice of me. Would you like me to ask your father if you can come back to Winterfell? Or I could down for supper one night.”

 

“Yes! Daddy would like that; you can stay in our tent again! I still think our camp is better then Winterfell,” Solfrid said as Hala nodded in silent agreement, “You should come and live with us Brienne and then we could see you all the time!”

 

Brienne smiled at them both; happy that didn’t take her absence as a personal offence and were still eager to spend more time with her. They were children however and she was probably going to have a harder time convincing Tormund that she didn’t hate him or the coat he’d given her. 

 

“Come on,”Brienne said as she stood up and brushed the straw from her clothes, “I’ll show you the pigs before it’s time for you to go home.”

 

“Is a pig like a dragon?” Solfrid asked hopefully as she caught hold of Hala’s hand, “Does it have wings and scales or breath fire?”

 

“Uhmm… not really,” Brienne admitted, already aware that the few pigs Winterfell had were already going to be a massive disappointment to the two girls.

 

She ushered the two girls on ahead of her and was pulling the gate to the stable shut when a horribly familiar voice called out to her.

 

“LADY BRIENNE!” 

 

It wasn't Lady Sansa this time and Brienne's stomach sank as Little Finger made his way across the courtyard towards them; his eyes firmly on the two little girls standing next to her. What on _earth_ could he want now? Brienne wasn't about to divulge what she had been discussing with Lady Sansa if that's what he was after, but a part of her couldn't help but worry. What if he had seen her give the blade to Sansa? It had been a bold move on her part but if she knew that Sansa at least had some way to defend herself, then Brienne would sleep a little easier at night. As if aware of the possible danger Little Finger presented, Solfrid and Hala had already pulled their hoods up and automatically moved closer together; shielding their hair and faces from view. Brienne moved in front of them and nudged them behind her legs just to be on the safe side as Baelish bared down on them. It was highly unlikely that Tormund would want Lord Baelish of all people anywhere near his daughters considering that he wasn’t even allowed in the Free Folk camp. 

 

“The Little Man,” Solfrid whispered to Hala, “The one daddy doesn’t like.”

 

“It’s all right girls,” Brienne told them quietly as Baelish made his way towards them through the snow, “There’s nothing to be frightened off.”

 

Behind her Solfrid was muttering something in Old Tongue and, before Brienne could stop her, Hala darted out from behind her legs. The girl was off and running before Brienne even had time to react and she clumsily launched herself after her.

 

“HALA! WAIT!” she called out as tried to grab hold of her hood but it was too late; Hala had already slipped through the crowds of people and disappeared from sight.

 

"Solfrid stay here," Brienne instructed as she found Solfrid about to bolt off after her sister, "I'll go and get your sister."

 

However when she turned around Lord Baelish was already blocking her path; a wide grin spreading across his face as he looked down at Solfrid. Brienne ignored him and took hold of Solfrid’s hand to tried to lead her away but Little Finger quickly stood in front of her and brought her to a sudden stop. 

 

“I see you’ve been making friends,” he said and Brienne had no choice but to stand her ground, “Perhaps we should call you Mother of Free Folk? You could grow that yellow hair of yours and get your savage friends to put bells in those ridiculous braids.”

 

He laughed loudly and Brienne wondered how he had the _gall_ to speak so disrespectfully of Daenerys Targaryen. If Jon Snow heard him talking like this, or anyone else for that matter, he’d be swiftly shown the exit from Winterfell; hopefully minus his head. Or perhaps one of Daenerys dragons could do them all a favour and reduce Little Finger to cinders. 

 

“You must be feeling very brave,” Brienne replied icily as she nudged Solfrid behind her once again, “Saying such things about Daenery’s Targaryen when the King in the North isn’t around to hear you.”

 

“No offence was meant My Lady,” he replied, his smile not quite reaching his eyes once again, “I was just interested in the company you’ve been keeping lately.”

 

Then he moved to kneel down in front of Solfrid who retreated further behind Brienne’s legs. Brienne had been half expecting him to try and push her out of the way and she planted her feet; preventing Little Finger from getting to the little girl. Unfortunately, this did not deter him from moving closer to Solfrid and he spoke through Brienne's legs, almost as if she wasn't there at all. 

 

 

“What’s your name child?” he asked Solfrid in that soft way of his that made Brienne’s blood run cold, “Come on, there’s no need to be shy.”

 

Solfrid remained stubbornly silent; even as Little Finger continued to look at her like she was some kind of specimen that should be kept in a glass jar. 

 

“Don’t they teach you to respect your elders in the savage lands?” Little Finger asked as he moved closer to her and Solfrid took a swift step backward.

 

By this point Brienne had had enough and she all but pushed Little Finger aside to take hold of Solfrid’s hand again; she wasn’t about to stand here and let him frighten a small child. Hala couldn’t have gone far, perhaps she’d run back to the other Free folk children, and Brienne started to head back to where they were still showing up Ser Attwell for how useless he was. 

 

“If you don’t mind Lord Baelish,” she said curtly as she pulled Solfrid along beside her, “We’re busy here so if you could just-”

 

“You forget your place Lady Brienne,” he hissed as he once again prevented her from leaving by standing in her way, “Perhaps I should tell Lady Stark how you skulk about outside her bedroom door at night with that mangled faced friend of yours.”

 

Brienne couldn’t help but let the shock show on her face; how had he known about her keeping watch over Lady Sansa? Clegane certainly wouldn’t have told him which meant Little Finger must have been watching her the whole time! 

 

“It’s for her own safety,” Brienne snarled at him as she squared up to him as best she could without scaring Solfrid, “I think we _both_ know that.”

 

“You think I would hurt Lady Sansa?” he asked incredulously, “I, the one person who has protected her throughout all of this and cared so _dearly_ for her mother?”

 

“Oh spare me that rubbish,” Brienne said as she pushed past him; tugging Solfrid along behind her.

 

“Or maybe I should tell Tormund Giantsbane that the Lady he’s developed such a _deep_ affection for would rather spend her nights elsewhere,” Baelish called out, causing Brienne to stop dead in her tracks, “Sandor Clegane seems to have spent a lot of his spare time following you about or perhaps it’s _you_ that's been following _him_?”

 

Despite her best efforts, Brienne felt her face flush crimson; she knew having that idiot Clegane trailing around after her was only going to lead to trouble! Tormund wouldn’t believe that though, would he? That Brienne was more interested in spending time with the Hound, of all people, than with him? The uncertainty must have shown on her face because Little Finger was back to smirking at her again. 

 

“ _Poor_ Tormund,” he whispered as he sneered up at her, “To put his affections in someone who’d rather be off playing Knights and Ladies with an ex pet of the Lannister's.”

 

Her cheeks felt as if they were almost on fire now and Brienne let go of Solfrid’s hand as her own balled up into fists. How _dare_ he?!

 

“You’re being very rude,” Solfrid said abruptly and both Brienne and Little Finger stopped glaring at each other and turned to look at her; a sickly smile spreading across Lord Baelish’s face.

 

“ _Am I_?” he asked and Solfrid nodded boldly even as Baelish knelt down next to her and stared at her with his piercing grey eyes, “And what would a Wild girl know about manners hmmm? I dare say you were scratching about in the dirt before Jon Snow _so kindly_ decided to let you into our lands.”

 

Brienne would really have liked to have hit him right at that moment, her hand was already balling up into a fist, but Solfrid seemed unperturbed by his remark and was looking at Baelish like she felt rather sorry for him. 

 

“Daddy says if you don’t have anything nice to say then you shouldn’t say anything at all,” She told him bravely, her chin jutting out a little as Little Fingers eyes widened, “ _And_ that people who say mean things are sad and broken on the inside. _And_ the earth doesn't belong to anyone except it’s self; _everyone_ knows that.”

 

“Whose your father girl?" Baelish snarled and Brienne couldn't help but think that Solfrid had struck a nerve, "Some halfwit wildling or has he already fallen in with the army of the dead that Jon Snow keeps bleating on about?”

 

“Lord Baelish!” Brienne snapped as she gave into her temper and grabbed him by the arm; pulling him away from Solfrid, “ _Hold your tongue_! She’s just a little girl!”

 

Baelish gave her a look of deepest loathing as he shook her off but Brienne held fast until he eventually wrenched his cloak free from her grip. She was about to reach for him again when Solfrid slipped in-between them and gave Little Finger a hard shove in the knees; her small stature preventing her from fully knocking him over. 

 

“DADDIES _NOT_ A HALWIT _OR_ A WHITE WALKER!” SHE shouted furiously as heR face turned bright red with rage, “DADDIES THE CHIE-”

 

She’d stopped abruptly before she’d said the word “chief” but it was too late and Little Finger’s eyes went wide with the realisation of _exactly_ who she was. Clearly anticipating that Brienne was going to make a grab for him, he ducked underneath her outstretched arm and advanced upon the little girl. Solfrid backed away from and for the first time she looked a little frightened but Little Finger had already grabbed hold of her by the hood; yanking it hard off her head as her red hair spilled out untidily from one of her buns.

 

“Don’t touch her! Get your hands off her!” Brienne shouted as her hard went to the hilt of her sword but Little Finger ignored her as he dragged Solfrid towards him by her hood. 

 

There was a loud tearing sound and her hood almost came clean off in his hand as she struggled to get away. A red rage descended upon Brienne and she lunged forward, intent on using whatever force necessary to get Baelsih away from Solfrid, only for him to stick his foot out; sending her sprawling into the dirt. Dazed, Brienne stared up as Little Finger took hold of Solfrid firmly by the arm, despite her shouts of protests. 

 

“Such a pretty colour,” he said softly as he eyed Solfrid’s crimson curls with interest, “A family trait no doubt? Tell me, girl-”

 

The rest of his sentence was cut off by a loud cracking noise as Little Finger was abruptly yanked backwards; the back of his head bouncing off the wooden stable door. Brienne was still laying on the floor, trying to figure just what exactly was happening, whilst Baelish let out a strangled “Ouphf” as the wind was knocked out of him completely. Next to her Solfrid let out a loud cheer of “Get him Daddy!” and Brienne found herself staring up at Tormund; his face full of pure rage. Hala was following closely at his heels and Solfrid ran towards her sister and held onto her tightly. Tormund looked angrier than Brienne had ever seen anyone in her _entire life_ and as he looked from Brienne laying in a heap on the floor and his daughter torn coat, for the first time she actually felt a little frightened of him. A loud coughing noise informed them that Little Finger appeared to be drawing breath to speak but before he could get a word out, Tormund’s hand shot out; slamming him back into the stable door by his throat.

 

“Touch my daughter _or_ the Big Woman again,” he growled as his massive hand tightened around Baelish’s throat and he held the smaller man easily in place, “And I’ll give you a _little cock_ to go along with your _little finger_.”

 

Baelish let out a loud choking sound and Brienne watched them warily; ready to step in between them should Little Finger decide to do something stupid like speaking. After a few moments, were Baelish turned almost purple in the face, Tormund abruptly let go and left the other man coughing and spluttering and slumping against the wooden slats for support. Before Brienne could even do anything Tormund was suddenly staring down out her; his hand outstretched towards her and Brienne gladly took it. His bare hands were rugged but surprisingly warm and he pulled Brienne to her feet with ease; something she hadn’t experienced since she was about six. She opened her mouth to say something, anything, but no sound came out and Brienne abruptly shut her mouth; feeling more foolish by the second. He was looking at her with what could only be described as amusement but not the cruel kind that she was used to, more like a fondness. Thankfully she was spared anymore awkwardness when Solfrid ran to up to her fathers side, pulling Hala along with her, and he laid a protective hand upon her head. Brienne stood there awkwardly; unsure of what to do next.  Baelish was on his feet now and Brienne scowled at him as he massaged his throat before smoothing out his rumpled cloak. 

 

“My apologies,” he said, bowing a little to Tormund but ignoring Brienne completely, “I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced.”

 

He held his hand out but Tormund ignored it and continued to glower at him until Baelish gave up and retracted his hand. 

 

“I know who you are,” he snapped as Hala and Solfrid peered out from behind him, "The Little Man who wants the Little Bird for more than just company."

 

Baelish coloured slightly but recovered quickly; his sickly smile plastered all over his face as he opted for another route into the Free Folk camp. 

 

"Perhaps you and I could discuss some matters concerning your people?” he asked stepping forward quickly and trying to shut Brienne out of the conversation completely, “If you and I could work together I believe it would in both out best interests.”

 

“No” Tormund replied bluntly and Solfrid and Hala started giggling behind their hands; whispering in Old Tongue to each other.

 

The look that crossed Little Finger’s face, like he’d been slapped or taken a punch to the gut, was one that Brienne would savour for a _very_ long time. A satisfied grin was already spreading across her face and Baelish gave her an ugly look as he tried one last time to weasel his way into Tormund’s camp. 

 

“No?” he repeated as if he'd never heard the word before, “Perhaps you didn’t quite understand me-”

 

“I think it's _you_ whose not understanding _me_ ," Tormund grumbled as he continued to look increasingly annoyed, "Or don’t you Southern twats know the meaning of the word no?”

 

Little Fingers face went the colour of sour milk and he hastily rearranged his cloak before striding away to whatever corner he’d crept out of. Tormund watched him go; a look of intense dislike upon his face whilst Solfrid stuck her tongue out again. Great. Not only had she delivered both girls back to their father looking like she’d dragged them through a bush, she’d unwillingly taught Solfrid a rude gesture _and_ almost let Little Finger get his grubby little hands on the girls. Brienne didn't have long to dwell on this though because both girls were instantly clamouring for attention and tidal wave of noise broke out. 

 

“Daddy!” Solfrid shouted excitedly as she all but jumped on top of Tormund and words began to pour out of her mouth, “Brienne showed us her big stone room _and_ horses _and_ I fired an arrow at a Southern boy who said mean things _and_ _then_ I went up an mountain made of stone _and then_ …”

  

Brienne hovered awkwardly as Tormund listened intently to his daughter; adding questions here and there at all appropriate moments.

 

“… Brienne showed me her knife that she used to stab things with and then Hala fell in the hay looking for Hound,” Solfrid continued excitedly, “And Brienne doesn't know _anything_ about the children of the forest so you _have_ to tell her one of your stories with all the voices and then…”

 

“Miss Solfrid,” Tormund cut in kindly and Solfrid finally stopped to listen to him, “I think it might be nice if we let someone _else_ tell us about there day hmm?”

 

Solfrid nodded eagerly and looked at Brienne expectantly, whose mind went instantly blank. Her non-verbal commentary didn't appear to deter either girl and they both crowded around her and pulled her closer to Tormund; Solfrid whispering loudly about which bits of there day Brienne should tell him about. Brienne’s mouth fell open awkwardly as they all stared at her but she appeared to have lost the power of speech. Nothing, not even a It’s-very-nice-to-see-you-and-thank-you-for-the-lovely-coat-sorry-I-didn’t-visit. 

 

“Lady Brienne of Tarth, daughter of Selwyn Tarth, Slayer of the Not-Quite-Dead-Dog and Brawler of Bears we meet at last,” Tormund said; stepping in when he realised that Brienne was still stuck for words and a wide grin spread across his face.

 

Brienne felt her face redden instantly as he stared back her with those penetrating green eyes of his. The furry that had surged through him like a hurricane had all but dissipated; leaving cool, calm waters in it’s stead. However her initial happiness at seeing him was slowly evaporating as she took in what he’d just said to her. 

 

“How do you know my name?” she asked accusingly as she finally found her voice, “ _And_ my father’s name?” 

 

“I asked you’re friend,” Tormund said brightly as he picked up Hala who had been tugging at his sleeve again, “He told me all about you.”

 

Brienne frowned; she didn’t have any friends besides Jamie and he was miles away in Kings Landing.

 

“ _Who_?” she demanded a tad aggressively; usually this was the part she found out that she was to be part of some nasty joke or being made fun of behind her back.

 

“The Hound, not the rabbit one,” Tormund explained and he didn’t seem at all perturbed by her rudeness, “The one that can’t hold his drink and who we almost threw in the frozen lake.”

 

_Bloody Celgane!_

 

“Wait a second,” Brienne fumed as the penny began to drop and the reason behind all Sandor’s _bizarre_ questioning came to light, “Have you been asking him to spy on me?!”

 

“Maybe,” Tormund said as he grinned at her although his cheeks went a little red.

 

Ordinarily Brienne would have been furious; people digging into her personal life was not something she was overly fond of. However she could understand in this instance that Tormund didn’t mean any harm by it; he’d just wanted to get to know her. Plus, it wasn't like he had any real means of interacting with her after she’d completely avoided going down to the Free Folk camp.

 

“He’s _not_ my friend,” Brine grumbled after a minute or two, “He’s an… _inconvenience_.”

 

“Oh…” Tormund said as he started to look a little confused, “Well _he_ thinks he’s you’re friend; he says you spend a lot of time with him at night. Maybe you do the whole friend thing differently in the South.”

 

Suddenly the snide remarks that Little Finger had made, that she was messing around with the Hound, came flooding back and Brienne awkwardly tried to assert that Clegane was little more than an acquaintance. He was, in fact, an irritant, a slob _and_ a drunk and not someone she would ever associate herself with under normal circumstances. She didn’t want Tormund to get the wrong impression of her so-called friendship with the Hound.

 

“I’m not… _with_ him,” she stammered awkwardly, “And I _don’t_ spend time with him at night… well I did last night but that’s besides the point.”

 

“I know that because you’re with me,” Tormund said happily and Brienne felt her face burn red again.

 

She’d heard about the Free Folks tradition of “stealing women” they liked and making them their wives; it all seemed rather barbaric. As nice as Tormund was, Brienne wasn’t about to let him throw her over his shoulder and run off with her.

 

“I’m sorry but I’m not quite sure-” she started but Tormund interrupted her.

 

“You’re with out here with me, in all this dirt,” he said as he turned his nose up at the admittedly filthy courtyard, “The Hound’s probably sleeping off all that sour goats milk he took from us.”

 

Relief flooded her and Brienne was extremely glad that she didn't have to explain the delicacies of courting this side of the Wall. Not that they really had courting here; more like your father told you who you were going to marry and you just had to put up with it. In the end Brienne decided to just reiterate that the Hound was not, in fact, her friend. 

 

“Friends don’t usually try and kill each other,” she said; wincing slightly at the painful memory of Clegane’s knee colliding with her undercarriage. 

 

“Don’t they?” Tormund asked her curiously and Brienne wondered if biting off ears and pushing people off cliffs was how you made friends in the Free Folk way of life. 

 

“Not really, no,” she said; even though not ever having very many friends Brienne wasn't entirely sure how the whole friendship thing worked. 

 

“Why didn’t you come back to see us then?” Tormund asked just as bluntly as Solfrid had back at the training ground, eyes narrowed in confusion, and Brienne felt her stomach churn with guilt.

 

“Brienne thinks you don’t like her any more because she brought the Bird Boy who hit Hala,” Solfrid chimed in before Brienne could fully explain the reasoning behind her actions.

 

Whilst what the little girl was saying was pretty accurate, Brienne would much rather have said it her own words. The bruise on Hala’s forehead seemed even more vivid up close and Brienne found herself having to turn away. Tormund meanwhile rolled his eyes and let out a loud sigh; muttering something about “Southerners”.

 

“Didn’t you like the coat?” he asked her bluntly. 

 

“Yes but after what happened I-”

 

“Did _you_ throw the rock?”

 

“Well no,” Brienne admitted; feeling more foolish by the second, “But-”

 

“Then why is it _your_ fault?” Tormund asked her and he seemed genuinely curious as to why Brienne always took it upon herself to blame herself for _absolutely everything_. 

 

“Because it was my duty to-”

 

“Pfft don’t worry yourself lass,” Tormund said as he cut her off with a wave of his hand like the whole thing had just been an unfortunate blip, “We’re not as stupid as everyone seems to think we are.”

 

“I don’t think you’re stupid!” Brienne blurted out desperately; great. Now Tormund thought _she’d_ thought he was nothing more than a simple minded fool this entire time.

 

“That tw- that… _bad man_ ,” Tormund corrected himself just has Solfrid started to giggle, “Knew what he was doing when he sent that little shit along with you. Nobody back at camp thinks it was your fault.”

 

It all seemed very simple when Tormund explained it like that, and Brienne was back to feeling slightly foolish that she hadn’t just swallowed her pride and gone down to the Free Folk camp herself. Tormund was still staring at her, his brilliant green eyes boring into her, as he waited for her to respond.

 

“Thank you,” Brienne stuttered out; almost embarrassed at the praise and the relief that Tormund wasn't angry with her.

 

“You’re all right; aren’t you Little Mouse?” Tormund said as he scooped Hala up and kissed her on the forehead, “You’d like Brienne to come back you and tell you all about that bear she fought wouldn't you?”

 

Hala nodded shyly; her face flushing red when Brienne smiled at her.  

 

“Go on,” he said as he put Hala back down next to Solfrid, “Go get the others; Dim Dalba won’t leave us have any supper if we’re late.”

 

Solfrid and Hala sped off towards the group of Free Folk children who were stood next to two demolished practice targets and a broken sword. Only four of the Northern boys remained and two of them were in tears whilst a third was holding onto the shattered remains of a bow that had been snapped neatly in half. Brienne should probably go and offer some assistance to Ser Attwell, who was looking completely frazzled, but Tormund had taken her by the elbow; drawing her attention back to him.  

 

“Those things that Lord Bird was saying,” he said abruptly before Brienne could get a handle on the situation she had found herself in, “You didn’t believe him did you?”

 

Brienne hesitated because even though she’d been having words like “Big Ugly Beast” thrown at her entire life, it still cut into her like a knife. It must have shown on her face because Tormund rolled his eyes and patted her warmly on the arm.

 

“Well don’t,” he said bluntly like it was the easiest thing in the world, “Little shits like that aren't worth it. Besides; he’ll be dead soon enough anyway.”

 

She didn't need him to clarify that he meant that the Great War would kill Robin Aryan and not a marauding band of Wildlings; the boy just wasn't built to survive the army of the dead. Still, she didn't wish him _dead_ and was about to say so but Tormund’s hand was still on her arm and Brienne felt her face flush at the not-so-unwanted contact. Up close and underneath all that fur and mass of wild red hair Brienne was surprised to find that he was rather more attractive than she had first realised. Those bright green eyes of his were rather beautiful and they had a certain twinkle in them which she found rather endearing. Tormund seemed to realise this and he flashed her another beaming smile and Brienne found herself turning rather red again. 

 

“Well.. I should probably go…” Brienne muttered; torn between running away and hiding and staying exactly where she was, “Unless there was something else…”

 

Apparently there was something else because desperately looking crestfallen when she’d first said she was leaving, Tormund rallied instantly.  

 

“You don’t need to wait out side the girls bedroom at night,” he said unexpectedly and Brienne was instantly taken aback; had he been watching her this _whole_ time?! 

 

No, that was impossible, but how _else_ would he have known that Brienne spent most of her waking hours trailing after Lady Sansa? Suspicion was quickly giving way to anger because as much as she might like Tormund, she didn't want him following her about when she was busy trying to protect Sansa. She was about to tell him so when he directed her attention upwards to where a large snowy owl was perched outside Sansa’s window. Brienne stared at it for a moment; she’d never seen an owl like that out in the daylight! It’s head bobbed up and down, almost like knew they were looking at it, and when Tormund gave a short, low whistle the bird instantly took flight. It’s huge wings soared gracefully through the air towards them and Brienne watched, fascinated, as the bird landed on Tormund’s shoulder.

 

“ _How_ did you get it to do that?!” Brienne asked in awe as the bird dipped its head and gobbled up some of the cured meat Tormund had taken from his pocket.

 

“Animal magnetism,” Tormund said with a knowing smile and the owl walked down the length of his arm and offered it’s head for Brienne to stroke.

 

The birds feathers were soft to the touch and Brienne gently ran her fingers along its head; careful to avoid its sharp beak. She had always liked birds because they seemed to graceful and elegant, unlike herself. The owl was clearly enjoying all the attention and bumped its beak against Brienne’s hand so she would resume petting it. If Tormund’s arm was aching from holding a rather heavy bird out for her to stroke, he didn't show and Brienne allowed herself a few more moments with the creature before carefully retracting her hand.  

 

“Off you go now,” Tormund said and the owl ruffled its feathers importantly before spreading its wings and taking flight, “Get back to work.”

 

Brienne watched it soar high up into the sky before landing back on it’s perch outside Sansa’s window. Another slightly unwholesome thought popped into her head and she was left wondering if there wasn't a huge great owl sat outside _her_ window and Tormund seemed to be following her line of thinking.

 

“That’s the only one we’ve got on watch,” he told her carefully as he looked up at the owl preening it’s feathers, “And she stays put outside the Lady Wolf’s room.”

 

“Oh,” was all Brienne could think of to say; feeling guilty for believing that Tormund would resort to animal cohesion just to see what she was up to at night. 

 

“Here,” he said as he pulled out something small from his pocket and handed it to her. 

 

Brienne took it from and felt her face go pink again; Tormund’s hands were very warm. Staring at it curiously Brienne found that it was a small, intricately carved piece of wood. The shape of it reminded her of a birds beak and upon closer inspection she noticed that there was a small hole at one end and another on the top. It appeared to be some kind of whistle but Brienne couldn’t for the life of her understand why Tormund would give it to her. 

 

“I don’t know what you Southern folk call it but the bird will send for us if the Lady Wolf is in trouble or you need help. Here, let me show you,” Tormund said as he took the piece of wood from her.

 

He gave a sharp blast of the whistle and it made a sound exactly like a bird call and high above them the owl called back; bobbing its head up and down as if in agreement. 

 

“Here,” he said as he handed it back to her, “Keep it somewhere safe; I don't think the Little Man needs to know that the Free Folk have eyes and ears in Winterfell.”

 

Brienne nodded and tucked the whistle carefully inside her tunic; the last thing she needed was Lord Baelish knowing that she had an army of Free Folk on standby should he try anything with Lady Sansa. There was a slightly awkward pause before Brienne said what she should have said when Tormund had first showed up at Winterfell that morning.

 

“I really am _very_ grateful for the coat,” she told him beseechingly before blundering on, “You really didn't have to do that after what happened to Hala and that awful boy being so rude and-”

 

Tormund cut her off by putting his hand over he mouth; effectively shutting her up from apologising any further. It was strangely intimate and Brienne didn't really know what to do with herself other then notice how manly Tormund’s hands smelt. 

 

“I said it’s fine,” Tormund said as he finally removed his hand before shaking his head and muttering, “You apologise for too much.” 

 

After that Brienne didn't feel half has awkward as she normally did and Tormund filled her in what happened after the Hound had dragged both Robin Aryan and herself from the camp. Apparently the Free Folk had been all set to go hunting after the Bird Boy and “crack his bones like a birds egg” but Dim Dalba had made them all see sense. It sounded _terrifying_ but the way Tormund told it, it gave the impression of being more like a funny incident that happened amongst the Free Folk on the regular. Brienne had heard stories at Castle Black from some of the more unforgiving Knights Watch members that the Free Folk liked a good fight; mostly amongst themselves.  Then Tormund was leaning in close to her, closer then Brienne thought was appropriate, but she didn't seem to be able to find the words to get him to take a step back.

 

“I’ve not told the girls yet but we’re going to see the Sky Mammoth and his mum tomorrow,” Tormund told her quietly as he waved over to where Solfrid and Hala were playing with their friends, “Should be a good hike up to the hillside if the weather holds out.”

 

 _Sky Mammoth_? Brienne stared at him in confusion as she tried to decipher what on _earth_ he was talking about. The Mammoth’s were all extinct as far as she was aware and most certainly didn’t have wings, in fact the only thing that was that big and could fly was a…

 

“A DRAGON?!” Brienne exclaimed loudly even as Tormund held up his hands to try and shush her, “You’re going to see a _dragon_?!”

 

As soon as she said it she regretted it; she hadn’t noticed Solfrid and Hala bounding back towards them. Solfrid’s entire face lit up with excitement upon hearing the word “dragon” and her eyes went wide with delight as she came to a skidding halt in front of them. It was too late to backtrack now and Brienne watched as Solfrid let out one big noise of excitement as she grabbed hold of Tormund’s arm and proceed to bounce up and down like she had springs attached her feet.

 

“Are we _really_ going to see the dragon daddy?” she asked and even Hala looked silently ecstatic about the prospect of meeting a dragon, “ _A real live dragon_?! Is it the one that came to rescue you, King Crow and Mr. Dog?! Will he breath fire when we see him? Does he have giant sharp teeth to eat things with?”

 

Brienne’s legs had turned to jelly and she began imagining all sorts of scenarios; most of which ended with Tormund, Hala and Solfrid being eaten alive by said dragon. Nobody else appeared to share her concerns however and Hala was already bouncing along beside her sister whilst Tormund gleefully told them that yes, it was the same dragon that rescued him and yes, he did have very sharp teeth. 

 

“Aggghhh!” Solfrid cried as she jumped up and down, “This is the best day _ever_! Can we get up really early tomorrow daddy? What time will the dragon get here? How fast can he fly? Can I stay up all night and wait for him?”

 

“Well…” Tormund began but Solfrid had lost her head completely and began running around in circles shouting “Dragon” at the top of her voice.

 

“Sorry,” Brienne muttered quietly as Solfrid changed course and ran around them both; unable to contain her excitement about finally meeting Drogon the Dragon.

 

“DRAGON!” She shouted as she flapped her arms about to resemble wings whilst even more of her hair fell out of her buns, “DRAGON! DRAGON! DRAGON!”

 

“You worry too much,” Tormund said with a chuckle as he lunged forward and grabbed Solfrid; tickling her until she shrieked with laughter, “It’s all part of the fun of having kiddies!”

 

He let her go and Solfrid ran off towards her friends and continued her “Dragon” chant; Hala following closely behind her. Once the children were out of the way Brienne felt like she ought to take charge of the situation and suggest that Tormund do something _other_ than take his children to see a fire breathing monster.  

 

“You _can’t_ go and see a dragon!” she scolded; her hands on her hips as she glowered at him. 

 

“Why?” Tormund asked but he seemed more amused by her authoritative manor then being offended by her trying to tell him what to do with his own children.

 

“ _Well_ …,” Brienne said; instantly becoming flustered because it seemed perfectly _logical_ to her as to why you _wouldn't_ take two small children within five feet of a giant lizard that could burn them all to a crisp, “What if it attacks you?”

 

“He seemed very friendly when he flew us back from the North,” Tormund said and Brienne could tell he was teasing her; not in the mocking way that everyone else seemed to but more of a gentle ribbing, “Didn’t even singe my nice fur coat _and_ he did a barrel-roll in mid air so we wouldn't get hit by that dead cunts ice pick.”

 

Brienne was used to all the “cunt” talk from Clegane but her nostrils flared all the same. Although maybe she would have felt differently if had been _her_ in mid air on the back of a dragon and about to be turned into folder for the Night Kings army. The chances of her ever being flown about by a dragon, or being the general vicinity of one, were slim to none so she decided to let the comment slide for now. There had been no mention of Brienne joining them on their trip and despite her insistence that a children had no place around a dragon, she was rather disappointed at not being asked to go as well. 

 

“Well… have fun,” Brienne muttered as she turned away and tried not to show how horribly embarrassed she was.

 

It wasn’t that she had expected to be invited along on what was clearly a family trip, she just thought that maybe… Wrong again she scolded herself and she abruptly turned away and started walking off. Tormund didn't seem all that keen on letting her go though and he quickly darted in front of her like a stealthy cat. The movement startled Brienne a little but he wasn’t blocking her way like Little Finger had done; he just didn’t seem to want her to go either.

 

“You’re coming as well though aren't you?” he asked or rather begged her. 

 

“No,” Brienne said; more bluntly then she’d meant to and Tormund looked more than a little crestfallen by her response so she quickly tried to repair the damage, “I mean… you didn't ask so I just assumed…”

 

“Why would you think we wouldn’t want you to come with us?” Tormund asked her as a look of pure confusion crossed his face, “You’ve got to help me convince Solfrid that she can’t keep a dragon as a pet.”

 

“Oh…” Brienne mumbled; her old insecurities still not quite letting her believe that Tormund actually _wanted_ to spend time with her. 

 

“We’re not like you Southern folk; we say what we mean and we do what we say,” Tormund said purposely as he straightened up and moved so she could get past him if she wanted to, “If you want to come with us then you’re more than welcome to. If you don’t then…”

 

He trailed off at the last bit and even Brienne could tell he was desperate for her to say yes. She didn't want to spend even five minutes with a dragon, let alone a whole day, but Brienne would gladly put aside her fears if it meant getting to know Tormund and his daughters a little better. 

 

“I’d really like to go,” she said, trying to ignore the fact that she was tuning furiously red, “If you’re sure you don't mind.” 

 

“DADDY!” Solfrid was back; Hala lagging behind as she tried to catch up with her. 

 

Tormund left Solfrid to zoom on past him as he went to scoop Hala up into his arms and she let out a big sleepy yawn. It was getting rather late now and no doubt Tormund would be heading back to camp soon to put the girls to bed. 

 

“Oh _please_ say you’ll come with us Brienne,” Solfrid begged as she ran up to Brienne and stared imploringly at her with her big green eyes, “ _Please, please, please_!”

 

How could she say no to that dear little face?

 

“Are you sure it’s safe?” she whispered to Tormund and tried to ignore the sound of her knees knocking together; she wasn't great with animals at the best of times. 

 

“Safe as anything else in this godforsaken place,” Tormund said as he cast a dark eye around Winterfell and Brienne noticed how he held onto Hala a little bit tighter, “Besides; how many people can say they’ve seen a real live dragon?”

 

He had a point there and Brienne’s curiosity was slightly getting the better of her; maybe meeting a dragon wouldn’t be so bad after all. What wasn't clear was if the dragon would be showing up alone or if Daenery’s Targaryen would be coming with it. Nothing had been announced about the self-titled Queen of Westeros’s coming to Winterfell but then again, Brienne wasn't all that sure how you’d even go about announcing the arrival of a dragon. Whilst she pondered this, Solfrid had taken her dragon impersonation one step further and was roaring loudly at passersby, many of whom were now giving her a wide berth. 

 

“That’s enough now Missy.” Tormund said as he caught Solfrid by the hood to prevent her from frightening anyone else.

 

Solfrid look a little disappointed that her fun had been stopped but this quickly gave way to more questioning and Brienne struggled to keep up with how fast her mind worked. 

 

“Daddy can Brienne come back to camp after we’ve seen the dragon?” Solfrid begged as she jumped up and down on the spot, “And can I make the Dragon Lady a present? Can Hala help? Can you tell us the story about when you flew on the dragon _again_ tonight?!”

 

“The Dragon Lady?” So Daenery’s _was_ coming to Winterfell. The thought made Brienne feel a little better; she’d less likely to be eaten if the dragons mother was there to keep it under control. 

 

“Miss Solfrid you know better than that,” Tormund was telling Solfrid and she stopped bouncing to pay attention to him, “You can ask _nicely_ if Brienne would like to come back for some supper but you’re not to pester her if she say’s no.”

 

“Would you like to come back with us after seeing Mr. Dragon and the Dragon Lady for supper Brienne?” Solfird asked with impeccable politeness, even though Brienne could see she was still completely over excited, “I can show where to get the best wood for the fire and Dim Dalba makes really yummy stew!”

 

“I’d like that very much,” Brienne told her; more than a little pleased when Solfrid jumped up and down with happiness. 

 

“Great!” Tormund said as his face split into another huge grin and Brienne couldn’t help but smile along with him, “We’ll wait for you at the bend by the edge of the forest. Nobodies supposed to know about the uhh.. Dragon Lady and I promised Jon that girls would keep quiet but he said it was ok to bring you along as well.”

 

“What’s she like?” Brienne asked curiously; trying to ignore the fact that Tormund had already asked the King in the North if she could join them on there little outing.

 

“Short. All though to be honest I was more worried about not falling of the dragon but she seemed nice enough,” Tormund told her with a chuckle, “Jon would probably be able to give you better character description then I can.”

 

It was so strange to hear someone to speak so loosely about the King in the North and Daenerys Targaryen but Brienne didn’t find herself offended like she had when Little Finger had spoken of Daenerys; it was very clear that Tormund and Jon Snow were friends rather than subject and ruler.   

 

Solfrid was almost beside herself with excitement of their day out and took hold of her father’s hand once again and resumed bouncing up and down excitedly.

 

“Whats the dragons name daddy? How many of them are there? Can we bring him a present?

 

“Drogon, two and yes.” Tormund replied and Brienne could only marvel and the speed in which he managed to keep up with his exuberant six year old.

 

“How do you ever say no to them?” she queried whilst Solfrid instantly began telling them what she was going to make for “Mr. Drogon and the Dragon Lady.”  

 

“I’ll let you know when I’ve worked that out,” Tormund whispered just as Hala let out another sleepy yawn and began rubbing her eyes tiredly. 

 

“Well I better get these two home,” Tormund said as Hala laid her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes, “Until tomorrow Brienne of Tarth. Miss Sofrid, say good bye to Brienne.”

 

“Bye bye Brienne!” Solfrid said as she wrapped her little arms around Brienne’s legs and hugged her tightly, “I’m _so_ excited you’re coming with us to meet Mr Dragon!”

 

“Me too,” Brienne said as she hugged the little girl tightly back, “Go on now or else you’ll miss your supper.”

 

Hala was already fast asleep, her head lolling on her fathers shoulder, but Hound popped his head out from underneath her coat; his nose twitching before he disappeared again. Tormund gave her one last wave before taking hold of Solfrid’s hand and whistling for the other children to join him. The wind was really picking up now as they all trooped out of the gate in single file but Brienne could still hear Solfrid’s excited chatter. 

 

“I’ve never met him but I know Mr Drogon’s going to my _bestest_ , most f _avourite_ friend. Apart from Brienne. And Mr Dog. And Hound,” she was saying , “And you daddy.”

 

“Oh I’m last now am I?” Tormund said with mock affront, “I thought _I_ was your best friend?”

 

Then the huge heavy gate was being pulled shut and Brienne was forced to turn away and head back inside; a silly grin spread all over her face. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, it's me... Sorry It's taken so long to update this story; regular uploading will resume from now on! I just wanted to say thank you to everyone who has taken the time to leave a comment; I promise I will respond to everyone. Hope you all enjoyed this chapter, whose excited for Brienne and Tormunds "date" to meet Drogon?! xx

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Briemund fanfic so I hope I've done them justice! I was going with the notion that Brienne would never have really known much about the Free Folk down in Tarth but once she got to know Tormund through his people and his daughters then she would start to see the real person underneath all those furs! I've got an idea for a possible second and third chapter so please let me know if you would like to read more!


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